Is something lost
Or has it never existed
Dead is the city night

The excitement is gone
Not what you expected
Confort me, my broken mind

Scold me by the throat
Even hidden the stars they know
I eat dreams before they bite

Is something lost
Or has it never existed
I’m Death’s dutiful appetite

I’m Death’s chef
I’m Death’s honeybee
His ***** pastry
His sweet cocoa baby

At least He loves me

Bon appétit

Sorry, do you mind?
Let me show you what I like
Not that I undermine
The masculinity of your type

You see, I'm pretty picky
Put your hand there
Stroke my breast gently
Kiss me everywhere
Make your way down slowly
Lick me in circles
Moist and softly
Put in one, then *******
Grab like it's yours
It's yours briefly

Yes - That's what I like
I'll moan if you listen
And play submissive
If you want I won't be polite

I want you in me
But first stroke, then half-way
And finally deeply
You like it? Keep it steady

You feel it? The pulsating thrill
The ancient melody
I know it well - make it harder
Edge my cave to wet wonders

And when you can't keep it in
No longer
Nourish me

I’ll devour you whole
I’ll show you no mercy

The cleverly young and hopeful
You'll want to save the world
Win against all odds
Think outside the box

But before

They'll put you in a box
Crush your wishful thoughts
They'll tell you to
Read, write, study
Remember the laws
And theories
***** them on paper
Forget them sooner or later
They'll make you
Sleep less and skip parties
They'll program you
To think of your grades only
They'll make you
Obey the laws
And theories

After years of torturous devotion

They'll reward you
With a framed paper piece
They'll say congratulations
You're saved from the world
Of the uneducated beings
You'll sing the laws
And theories
You'll want to serve
You'll want to be safe
You'll build yourself a box

And they'll win.

I am the kind of person
Who does not write
I am not a writer
Art - my soul is empty of it.

It belongs to them
I fall in love with them
Their brush strokes of delight
Their melodies always so bright
Art - it aches that they are full of it.

Through spectacles
I try to impregnate my senses of the unreachable Meanings,
Dispersed.

I subvert
Their crisp outfits and sparkling faces
That gracefully punch
With such superior perfection.

It belongs to them
The artfully divine
But for the sake of advancement of mankind
My soul was ripped apart and stripped of Art.

And now
I'm left with none of it.

I don’t care if you think I’m beautiful

                                                 Whate­ver



Am I beautiful inside


                                              Yes you are

Le malheur se cache derrière milles profils ténébreux,
Et attend que le match insignifiant de vermine,
Infirme mon idée tordue de l'être amoureux.

Le malheur séduit au lit par ses promesses d'ivresse sauvage,
Qu'attendez-vous pour m'écrire,
Et m'aplatir dans ma désolante dignité au passage?

Le malheur s'invite seul à mes soupers assourdissants de vide,
Et exhume les faux espoirs assommés
De mensonges médiocres; alors je me les imagine...

**** de moi, et moi, **** de leurs pensées,
Entre les espérances dupées et celles perforées d'épines,
Le malheur me couve, le malheur se rend légitime.