in desolation
comes a time in every life one uses
or rather grinds one's mind on one had
when everything mockingly fails
and one morbidly entails
the cheap riddles and the fairy tales
those one has heard lying cursed
in unmeaningfuly bored
yet deliriously mad
beds of intercourses of meditated heads
and much after when one was dying
or remembering and loathing
every spec of existence one has spared
from revengeful nightmares
of fearful legs and slippery breasts
so
when floating scorn ripped open one's glaze
in the ivory tower of an abandoned blaze
and by the way also a sick fucking craze
was it an angelic smile on an idiotic face
bleeding cold and cultivatedly dazed
with dirty rhymes that everyone detestedly
amazed?
ha ha ha!
No comments:
Post a Comment