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Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Wednesday, 23 October 2019

Skeletal pendants.

Hell o' greetings from the strangled
tightened grip of the halo enlightened noose
where ravenous shadows retreat to their internal mangled roost.

Conversational debates of the best artificial bait
to lace a verbal knotted rope to entice an ill-conceived fate
and offer a low ranking system in which to outwardly rate.

Good bystand the grandiosely clawing, delegating ascendants
to fall witness to the only living mortal remnants.
The waving, ever shining, skeletal pendants.

Friday, 11 October 2019

I ain't.

I ain't have to kill to know that there's a thrill
I ain't have to have kids to know I'd rather get rid
I ain't have to torture to know that blades puncture
I ain't have to fuck around to know the erection goes down
I ain't have to do the same to know I'm the only one to blame
I ain't have to write this to know my life ain't worth shit
I ain't have to know the gifts ignorance bestows
to know I'd rather know, before the consequences bury me below.

Wednesday, 9 October 2019

Crowd surfers.

Stage dive to handed comfortability
for your held high among a crowded deity
and crash a fall for your ununique in the common rarity
of disdained fingers groping your vanity
left aged, lost in reminiscent hilarity
giving the advice on immature sanity
hoping to renew, shrivelled loins warranty.

Thursday, 3 October 2019

Peer through.

Peer through drawn curtains
as peers throw their own personal burdens
self project all directions, though the aim is anything but random
so stay atop the stairs, a silent witness on the landing
hating, reflecting the times they landed the hits
gave back and crowded with the stomping kicks
primary made, a foundation of grounded bricks.

Walk on out to see actions embraced, understood
smiling faces viewed from under mud
unearthed, gave birth to, vile eyes in a disgusting disguise
bile filled lies loathing the standing living size
becomes a comfortable home within the mind
talking to cannibals as they dine on someone's lost behind
calm blood splattered conversation, although nonaligned
until redefined, within the encapsulating decline of the realistic design.