Her Ventriloquist venom is never ending engineering every word I should say
Pity me as her words drip down from my mouth Look to me... my paralyzing awkwardness admonishes all attempts at paucity
the ***** of vernacular continues Manifest as a million babble born words look at her and you’ll know why Would you sell your soul if you spoke staccato and she smiled sadistic?
And when she’s not there I lay prostrate on the railroad tracks of her impending presence restrained and retrained in the tailisman rope of your arrival Look there now, a Tongue tied in knots, a mind firing (shots) I am reduced she is labyrinthine, in both style, and substance, a sapiosexual maze, a soothing syrup mixed with biter bile
why then does nothing feel better than to see her smile Why validate her pleasure with my defeats? Stuck and ****** into a singular melodious smile, the tune of which I can’t help but dance to
Why? Because at the end of the day
your eyes jut out candelabras in defiance the night notifying the world of all you want but have yet to receive a shallow existence .... a marked man... a million morbid motifs made of mucus and stuttered star beams
You are that rare being, a glimpse at myself both wretched and alluring A soul already tainted::: still I seek to embrue, the boredom I am voiceless in this decaffinated life
a tendril of hair a woman domestic a shadowland chaser a light that’s poetic The addictive tape worm of my soul