i shouldn't equate so much feeling for a *******, but you'll soon be equated as one, even though you quenched the ore thirst, and yet turned to alloy of such thirst that could not be quenched, i.e. a ******* that turned into a digitalised bedroom fancy, a *****-of-no-touch... what the **** is that for? a ******* joystick? me pay for a ****?! that's what you became dear friend, a would be murderer where the victim attached your ******* to himself and you were left in a prison without confessions or restrictions, with your mother's appealing face lied into.*

i came here for the beauty,
i didn't come here for the everyday;
tragedy that i've seen enough beauty
that it became everyday,
tragedy that i could't make the everyday
a beatified bounty, thus easily
accounted for in mirage of question, thought, answer
and not the custom of men
that might be a worthwhile pairing,
a known marriage, an unknown art;
(                          tears                            ­           )
all my love i will to cannibalise you;
eerie i may be, but you practice law,
a doubled lie, and you earn your worth by
those who never cared to moralise from genesis
but from exodus.