When you Twisted, Roasted and Burnt the sourness of thatΒ Β breath of my life, Did you wonder if my eyes were quoting you Or the dirge of a distant land, Did you not pause to breathe that breath, Lest I might inhale your sweaty stale Sweet Breath! Were you wearing the gloves of a shrunken leather, That you made off my hairy skin And its sweaty *****. Did you glare deep into my eyes and toes, Wondering if I was the untouchable You had enslaved for granted for a dozen years, till my sour soul would breathe the last of your charred breath. You had hammered me to fit into the holes of your *** with none a friction, So that you could keep yourself warm, wet and nourished always inside me. Weren't you glad when you rubbed my back, When I purged with a distinct death moaning under your nose Did you slap me because I disturbed your sleep purging endless every other minute? Or just that I stank the staleness of your *** growing inside me?
I could do nothing my Staleheart Lover But **** that blob of rotten animal *** of yours, And die myself after this verse, Cause I simply could not love that red big *** that ran my blood and my flesh, I just couldn't breathe no more, lest it breathed a fragrant life into me And I forget the hatred I nourished with my soul, So, I shut me as well as the heavy blob called my child! So that I just couldn't let anyone conclude the it, This blob, The baby, as one pretty mistake of us.