If I'm being honest amongst the lawless
Not to gain a measure of respect
But to lessen this burden of depression
A lesson to those who accept the charity
To those who don't, I require
A small measure of respect
Just bear with me.
I am no thing.
If I am what I am treated like
A parasite is what I'd be.
A leech so delighted it's death marked
drowning in ****** squeals.
A pun on the current state of affairs
Asinine and obtuse
I am a STONE
The same stone cast first is being cast at me
I'll still be laughing.
So why am I no longer laughing now.

Just in case, new sorrows bother me far from seing myself be me again but I'll save face
Painting the door red *** orange sunsets on the flanges locking poor binge watchers lore friend roll dice across the lives dangle on the porches
No sense in portly bored men loose last nights lunch launched upon the confidant smiley subordinate freckles change places with the spittle. Reminds me to riddle you this question riddled rediculous by forethought rampant in its rending the positive outcomes floundering to even sprout. So much doubt now.

****, this
Obsolete gravity
Connection
Faltered
Ghost link
Pain
Revisited, oh
Pain
The tide held back, every
Change made too
Late. At night
Intrinsic rain beats and spatters with
With the numbness she said she carried.
Fate! Sadistic insight melds into fruit.
Alone.
Escape and evacuate those ruined parts of your soul, collapse the wreckage and clean the parts that you were shown.
For now, though
I should
Just float.

"To let go would not be so bad"
Said the spider to the snake precariously positioned atop the overpass
Busy lights towing dragons sped dizzily below
"Just think! You're body will feed my kin a generation!"
The snake gulped, a quakey sight to be seen, then leaped from his captors web
Into the claws of the raven.

Why is the worst question.
Unanswered left guessing in a state stressed and uneducated, great, yet
Answered left tormented in pain, aching to accept the quest, yet grateful nonetheless.
Changed, in that I don't want to stay the same
Shapeshifter.

I christen this for those too far gone villainous listeners drifting in and out where all space and sound differs from the inner louse, spinning out now new spouse left with the umpteenth kid I lost count got it straight out from the horse mouth, even got a giftbag made of **** rags from the riffraff that bought it with tickets and mixed it with the ripped off gift tags.

Car won't start
Hands in heart in hands
My plans have fell through
Again, yet
There's always a yet
A low highbrow close to closing
Where the **** am I
Really.