Pulsating Crimson (day 683)

Destruction pulls at my madness
With steam whistles and ten year old phone books
Pages loved so much they’re retreating
While the tune of rapidly moving music
Pulsates a crimson so pure my eyes turn bold
I pour myself a glass of that ruby no label
Found deep within the dusty shelves
Of fathers favorite medicine cabinet
Sit down on the ol’ family rocking lounger
And fixate on the blinking screen
Laughing defeat into my already raging desire

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