i'll create monsters, should i be treated with fake affection, with false treatment, i'll endear monster more than those who refused to treat me; by god existent or non-existent i'll create monsters, should i be treated with false affection!*

what we don't write
we feel,
what we write we cure
feeling to a prime
rather than a surd;
imagine me with violence,
forgiving a sadist
so we can pay off the mortgage
with a cousin eliminating him
from disclosure,
and when i think of it,
i wish for being homeless,
then there i might learn to trust people,
but no,
given the girl i gave multiple ******* to,
and a "friend", indeed a "friend",
death comes like a wheelchair idiot
endearing cannibalism ready to bite - oh so you're
ready with your minority report agents censoring
thinking? forsaken passion
left you with a crucifix to cling to?
wheel the cannibal in!
may i say, is that a coat-hanger you're hanging
on and that 700,000 dollars' worth of sainthood
accepted in bureaucracy to pass
an acceptance of the kneel through
like clown juggling might make you buy stale
lemonade where a goldfish ought to be?