Caught in the act. The only audible note,
The bead of sweat trickling down my temple.
Unholy night, no axioms in sight.
Red-handed is such a nasty term.
The only red here is chanel No. 5
Corpulent lips as glossy as sin.
Timing is everything
when you’re spewing false maxims
to cover dirty tracks, as soiled as God’s Earth.
I open those red, red lips and out pours
A Thunderstorm of ugly lies.
My noose is spun from self-pity.
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