I’m born, again, I’ll build a life fucking friends and friends won’t give a fuck for fucking is the latest trend. Just as well, I’ll be stuck to sell my delight in licking sweat to swallow hell, oh well. I believe in what the conscience has ruled: credulous a must, allow my heart be fooled. So let’s spread our legs and all take a look at truth for once where wants are wound by how we’re pound for pound bound to like to fuck. What we don’t know yet we’ll never find in our books. I’ve been trained to live lost in a hole, where poison could equate to control, is controlled by my hand, here it is, here I am. See, everybody’s borne in battles but I’m trying to breed out, by never doubting that in doubting I’ve created the doubt: if I’m about the best bred to lead the canon’ed devout then can I realize and factualize my fictional account of how I’m born again? Forgive this life loving friends and friends don’t give a damn for damning is the means to end. Here I am, god, help me I am slave to a name not possible or possibly the person that I’ll became. Forever meting and deleting all the simple mistake. I’m just so sick and tired of playing the game. I’ll act my age, but if there’s any reason, then I reason it’s a reasonably good time to stage my routine routine: melodramatic love affair. If there were a photographic record you could watch her as she pulls the rope to move back the floor and let the world fly out from under me. But I prefer things much more spiritual, so I’ll stay a step behind. She’s abruptly the queen, suddenly fit for the crown, probably the reason she don’t need me now. Now she likes to touch only when I’m sleeping, it keeps me dreaming of a sweeter girl. Forgive me I don’t mean to trouble you but I feel so miserable. The treasure I sought, a wonder grinning and gold, so much for the soft words she never told: that I would have to wait so many steps behind.įorgive me, I don’t mean to trouble you, I will move the parade an inch behind the starting line. She gets her moves right from the front page and begs me, ooh I’ve got the sweetest girl. Fail me, fail, fail me fail me not, I suffer every eager infection. Nothing’ll heal me but the severed limb, nothing will cure me like the cancer borne. Prepare me for my proudest work: prostitute for my bride. Every bit as wrong as you were before, when you first divined your word for love, now you wear it on your tongue, saturate your lips and kiss someone. My motivations are a matter of fault-all your fault. See how this wears me out? How close am I (now) to another dull mystery: are we the graveyard or the ghost? I have a motive. (They tell me the improbable arithmetic of closing my eyes and counting the cards ) Put me in party to the scheduled lie and give me your right hand but live by your left, make me murder every mountain and remove every paradise. Process me, produce the proper symmetry to put me in charge of reinventing the mute. You will tell the lies that you promised to me I like the way that you mumble when you think I ain't listening You won't mind the mess, 'cause I made you this way Stay with me a little while, and see in a little while I like the way that you stutter when you know I'm not sleeping But, a criminal? No, I’m not, just the child of a lesser god (one who’s both perverse and profane). And now you know me well: I’ll fill you up just to empty you out. And I’m just so damn sure that I’m not your enemy, I’ll never say what you meant to me or pretend I’ll be anything other than this weekend’s release. There are those who impersonate their feelings of love, who draw their deficit courage from the red badge of another warm body embraced by the bed. I’ll put your name on the list you’ll be unable to sell. I’ll be uncomfortably warm, read me unreasonably well. I’ll get you drunk on a word and walk you down the street. Now you know me.Īnd I’ll tell you all about the politics of apathy. Like when you crawl to me, open aversion is just for show, I’d give a warning but I think you know-it doesn’t matter where you go-I’ll be recording every casual shame. Cut yourself from the stone, that you milled in the doorway here and keep every problem you want my dear, I’ll make it perfectly clear: all I desire is your physical pain. Reasonable regrets, no preface or pretense, just c’mon lay down with me. (Guess I'll be one more hero) (I guess I've guessed wrong) If drowning slow's appealing, appreciate your motive's weight when there's nothing else to hold. Practice smashing windows, breaking bones against the wall. More than anything now, the lips I've kissed the lips you own, the lips I hate, I've memorized. When he speaks a piece of his mind, I give the devil his due, and if he gets through it's rude to push him out. Imperfectly reused in a second life taught by second-hand thoughts to breathe when it's blown out.
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