this tribunal appellate, platinum lassitude painted with disingenuous fingers appalled at the notion of loss breathing with eyes shut the hour is late and no one is coming to champion the cause because there’s no profit involved I’m freebasing ideas in the square room all the blank stares tell me it’s unfair and the prognosis untenable, tourmaline mandate we are torpid cancer awaiting fruition I find it all so fun(gible) strapped in the network my workload is overloaded debt my unnecessary companion If I just get that one more thing capacitors at full capacity we are breakdown not like Tom … Continue reading so what are you doing for your birthday
I don’t care what you are I no longer care what you need I sicken of watching you watch Me. your breath stinks of prison rations. I’ll find turbulent times and flow. conjugal visits form crust on memory of your albatross. it’s heavy, the lifting up. a crime, concomitant with verse. this need to nurse failure is a sickly pastime. choke on our dubious catastrophe. half alive, have a laugh about the sheer volume of venom rushing us toward a destiny of mayhem. i’ll keep up, i swear. 2, plus too many revolutions, we resolve to revolve around pantomime. if … Continue reading watch me.
Quid pro quo Clarice. The money is gone up your nose. Pip pop tip-top running rabid sideways on the sidewalks singing kill kill kill the poor along with Biafra. Paint them taking tainted terror and feeding the pretty demons. Gift the shift of religion to the little lambs you are recounting the sordid legend of political Zelda for. See the whites of their eyes and frown down upon the frailty. My finger gun blasts a hole in your understanding as you sit shaking out the burnings we’re too cowardly to give a name to. Ascertain the relevant odd job backlog … Continue reading Quid Pro Quo
Why don’t you listen to me when I try to talk to you Stop thinking of yourself, for just a second fool Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear your mouth Your mother made a monster, Now get the hell out of my house Bridge can’t stand it for another day I ain’t gonna live my life this way Cold sweat, my fists are clenching Stomp, stomp, stomp the idiot convention Which one of these words don’t you understand I’m caught in a mosh! Talking to you is like clapping with one hand What is it? Caught in … Continue reading OP’s TSotD-Anthrax
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