.



We are such cowards

Our dreams are rooted in a poisoned past
Which we attempt to repeat

We fornicate with dead ex - lovers

We are sick little nebbish souls

Bloodless and corrupt

Eating whatever **** is fed us

Which we ***** up and call poetry

••

We are barely fit to be called alive

//

We poison reality by our very presence

//

We don't give a ****

//

Our loveless blather !


Our demonic narcissism !


//

Our praise for self imposed mediocrity

•

We are the graveyard of sensitivity

//

Loving nothing but self - image



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