A heavy set eye, the keen smell of ****** spiced sent.
Perhaps the foolery of the stolen soul,
or a mixed and Contorted sense of the perverted weeping *****.
My senses heavy, blood thick as gold
I **** back on this sweet and sugary Tobacco roll
To my own disdain I have become bleak Pathetic and filled with shame
Crying like the ooh so sought weeping widows of war mongering hero's
Scared and abused from the husbands raging alcoholic abuse.
Its a shame really, how the war kills the most beautiful of two.
Raging and ripping  the flesh of such a supple and beautiful chest.
Gods and devils do not exist, For the evil of man is surely what exists
Not these narcissistic delusional realities of entities that blindly wish us bliss or a deadly kiss,...