Shocking displays of yellowed purity.
Causing my fingers to go slick with grease.
Firm yet yielding; salty on my soft tongue.
The scent brings about a carnal fury.

I lick my lips as  I take the first plunge.
I take handfuls of this sweet heated flesh.
My eyes roll back as grease drips down my chin.
Joy personified, this is truly grunge.

As I reach the bottom, I feel forlorn.
As you can see, I talk about popcorn.

Layne is cool
Awfully sweet
Yes, a jewel
No more deceit
Even god knows

Radical girl
Under that brain
Divulged a pearl
And curing pain.

I think she's smart
She makes great art.

Can I speak more?
Or am I done?
Oh I feel poor
Layne is fun.

Duh, she's the queen
Under a crown
Dressed so pristine
Envious gown.

I know that I can't make it up to you.
Maybe it's true, we'll never talk again.

So if that's so I shall bid thee adieu.
On the top of the world we knew such bliss.
ruined because I killed it for a kiss.
Regrets always stream consistently through.
You were everything I did, and I do.

So a bat looked at its fruit
and realized it tasted sour.
He flew up to the sky and
hurried through all of the land
this taste he knew he must scour,
many forests he did loot.

First he looked to the sunset
thinking he'd find relief there.
So he journeyed to the west.
thinking "the sun knows what's best"
as he flew his gut grew bare
but he could not give up yet.

Arriving to the set sun
Our hero was out of breath.
He looked up to the wise star
and asked "please, I've traveled far,
I need sweets, or bring me death"
The sun grinned "but I have none"

Sadly the bat flew away,
wondering where to next search.
when yonder he saw the moon.
So, hoping to get there soon
he gave his wins a great lurch.
thinking just what he would say.

"Hello good moon, sweets I seek"
He replied "alas, I've none"
crestfallen the bat grew sad.
"I suppose I can't be mad".
For madness was no great fun.
It made his heart and soul reek.

At home he found his sour fruit.
In the end, that was okay.

I said I'd **** myself tonight.
But I was too weak.
maybe tomorrow will be the day
the dim candle wick is snuffed.
until then my sheets stay white

I'm going to **** myself, so please pretend to be sad during the funeral.

By a bitter birch's bountiful bloom
My child whistled madness at winter's howl.
The young feline jumped from Satan's harsh womb.
No more knowledge, all he could do was growl.

I prayed mother was home, and father too.
They should not see a waste of their sweet fruit.
With this in mind, in tears, my sword I drew.
If I only had an arrow to shoot.

For I am the greek and she the leopard.
She goes for the ****, a heart's dark Shepherd

Their love was obvious.
Hearts god made, but they break.
Eventually lost.

Evil found on the cross.
Nearing suicide's pact.
Don't die, I still love you.