fuck if i know and it could bore you to death
but it's patiently seated inside you
it's harnessed around
and behind you
la da la da drive it off a cliff
it climbs back into the hole in the wall
to ride the train.
and play its petty/annoying/perverted games.
have you stared it in the face
as of yet?
your day will ...
distilledwhite horse fill the void of ...
empty words remain
kissing on the brink of concussions
need to :fuck: to feel :alive: .
paired with the echos of our own respiration
: teething on fingernails:
and ashtrays are wedding rings
someone sings in the bathroom
sucking life off anyone we can
LETS CONVERSE POLITICALLY ...LETS CONVERSE POLITICALLY ABOUT THE NATURE OF OUR CURRENT EVENTS
We wear black
Black is our colour on this empty globe.
The world is coloured.
But do not fret, do not dwell, do not even take this into consideration
It will disappear, just add water.
We dance in costume
Alarm clock screaming shrill above our heads
Alerting us when to rise and manipulate what is oh so obviously grey, chilled and dead.
Our arms tire, but the end justifies the beginning ...
It will all be forgiven and forgotten just as long as you're winning.
Mingle in circles,
Concoct a potion to win their smiles.
We pluck off their faces,
collect their shells,
to add to our rotating necklaces.
Cram the raspberries up our nose
Cover your eyes with sunsets and acoustics
Smell the sweet of the under ball-gowns:
tins ... excited?
the truth away with the rain
Away with frivolous
'Consume or be consumed'
And that's our national religio
These HandsTHESE HANDS
Glazed eyes scorch through the splatter of crimson on my baseless palms.
My hands made idle by the rage that raves in waves,
Wages war with consequence that heart shortly endures.
No one dwells to lull now that he is sprawled
On the merciless sidewalk; doesn't even flinch to crawl
To hit the edge of the pool of gore that soaks his mortality
And climaxes morality
Highlights brutality with senseless origin.
But the blood that highlights my hands
Renders me a nameless faceless Satan impersonation
And the mascara mask resurrects me to take a stand,
But balance swoons at the guilt of a dead man.
The blood curdles in the crack of my lifeline
Perhaps to warn me it'll soon be my time,
So relying on lying and sinning mistaken for winning
Becomes apparel in the cold shade of the rising carcass of my beloved victim.
If I be the vixen,
Shall I say he be my prey?
Never had I cognized my last refuge would engage surges of urges to pray.
Who am I kidding?
I do only my bidding
And could no
party monsterparty monster
Dance my pretties, in the limelight
Under the glamorous veil of thick night,
In the gritty cesspool of matte and yesterdays makeup.
The stage is illume with delicious doom
And the needles creep from out of their hiding places.
Special K - the light in all their powdered faces.
As skin turns sickly yellow
Here, chic is mellow.
When they shoot up, the blood trickles ...
So quietly, it goes unnoticed.
And then I see you,
perversely smirking in spite of the filthy floor
And fading bolts on the latched doors.
You rub at my red lipstick with those spellbinding fingertips
Smear it on these shaking, dagger-thin hips.
And then they hypnotize,
Mesmerize - damn these audacious fingertips:
They, so finding, close gently
Put sense of sight, insight and foresight to bed.
I want to leave.
I hear all these swollen tongues sport such thinly embraced words.
And the dismal chuckles are the glue
That binds it all together.
Theyre an orgy of glas
papa timeTime is unhinging us
The tick tock of the clock is resentful
Tick tock; so lucid and logical
Time is de-fringing us
The shell is subtracted
Our cloaks are unlaced with each fortifying wrinkle
Do you feel cold?
Time is unhinging me ... love please find me
Dont leave me here with the vacant colors and these odd numbers.