then i don’t mind not remembering my
name, or what year it is,
or what new ********* styles are in…
i don’t mind mumbling, cross-eyed
with **** running down my leg
for the rest of my life…
i don’t mind a dilapidated hospice,
because it’s like you’re some angry
******* god who demanded more
than a ****** sacrifice.
so take this mass of jumbled ****
make angels cry,
make the devil envious,
and make the specters of yourself get
ghost as i demand ice-picks through
the eyes that you lied and said
were beautiful,
because i don’t know what to
do any longer with the botched
******** you’ve left me here with.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC
then i don’t mind not remembering my
name, or what year it is,
or what new ********* styles are in…
i don’t mind mumbling, cross-eyed
with **** running down my leg
for the rest of my life…
i don’t mind a dilapidated hospice,
because it’s like you’re some angry
******* god who demanded more
than a ****** sacrifice.
so take this mass of jumbled ****
make angels cry,
make the devil envious,
and make the specters of yourself get
ghost as i demand ice-picks through
the eyes that you lied and said
were beautiful,
because i don’t know what to
do any longer with the botched
******** you’ve left me here with.
