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andrew-p-marheinePoems
In a winding, twisted fate, The Brothel, I’ve tried to Escape, The sickening sounds of lips being ****** The horrid sounds of those being ****** The slaps of flesh o’er again, My mind, I cannot now defend, I hate every minute, every tick, This endless clock makes me sick, I dream of sleep that won’t ever come, I dream of the day I can run, Escape, Escape, Escape, I’ll carve it in myself, it should be my name, I’ve been mislead, indeed, I’ve been stolen, But these shallow romances so repulsively sodden, Have left thoughts so in mind forsaken, Of each *** and race, lifelessly forbidden The thought of leaving, This **** hotel is quite deceiving, I think of how it became Synonymous in its name, With “love" and a quenched thirst Of our lust and ****** rebirth, For this menagerie of psychopathy Is the disease among society, Eyes that I no longer look into as I speak Gaze into mine as they endeavor to seek My soul, laughable, they will not find, To their credit, it’s long since died, This wretched place holds me with no interest, And of how I came about, to be honest I’ve no recollection. No recognition Of anything here, nothing is alive, All that come, just for pleasure strive, Empty inside and dying within, I must Escape this place of boundless ruin.
0
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
The Brothel.
In a winding, twisted fate, The Brothel, I’ve tried to Escape, The sickening sounds of lips being ****** The horrid sounds of those being ****** The slaps of flesh o’er again, My mind, I cannot now defend, I hate every minute, every tick, This endless clock makes me sick, I dream of sleep that won’t ever come, I dream of the day I can run, Escape, Escape, Escape, I’ll carve it in myself, it should be my name, I’ve been mislead, indeed, I’ve been stolen, But these shallow romances so repulsively sodden, Have left thoughts so in mind forsaken, Of each *** and race, lifelessly forbidden The thought of leaving, This **** hotel is quite deceiving, I think of how it became Synonymous in its name, With “love" and a quenched thirst Of our lust and ****** rebirth, For this menagerie of psychopathy Is the disease among society, Eyes that I no longer look into as I speak Gaze into mine as they endeavor to seek My soul, laughable, they will not find, To their credit, it’s long since died, This wretched place holds me with no interest, And of how I came about, to be honest I’ve no recollection. No recognition Of anything here, nothing is alive, All that come, just for pleasure strive, Empty inside and dying within, I must Escape this place of boundless ruin.
andrew-p-marheine
Written by
andrew-p-marheine
American
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
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