The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Thursday, January 19, 2012


Warped on foot amongst mankind
In the absolute dark so blind

Without the laws of a chief head
And stench weight of the dead

Lives a lust of blood to root pain
In tormented mind so vain

Reflecting in the cracked mirror
Lays deformed face of terror

Not always practised though skilled
In twisted abnormality so filled

This distorted reality of unforgiving
Lost in underworld of living

Screaming in hushed narcotic brain
In sick sanity locked up insane

Blemished by tenets of mankind
While hiding the toxic mind

As it transmits beyond dimension
Of its main comprehension

Fooled knowing bitter zilch in all
Doomed taking leaps to fall

Where buried normality is aborted
Remain bones of the distorted

September 27, 2008 by Janette Dengo

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