There is genuinely a poem on here
Called "My love for you is Like Violin Dubstep"
And it's fine that people don't read my ****
If it's the people behind such artless crap

I can sense a great sadness in you
You may wrap a large jacket around your shoulders
And curl up into a ball at night
But the sadness shines through
The tight ball
And the large jacket
You bring it with you to the streets
And you cut slices of it off for the people you talk to

I hope that one day
The cork
Holding it all in there
Pops out

We stood infront of each other
Ripping off chunks of flesh
Mixed with matted hair
We gouged eyes
Struck bone
Tore strips of skin
As pools formed at our feet
And kept going
Clawing at cartiledge
Pulling at intestines
Until we got to the core
And we were both bare
That was our love

As I dip my rod
In a vat of excrement
I wonder
What made me
like this?

There was human hair
On the floor of the metro
How did it get there?

I wish we could cut past the platitudes
And speak la langue franche
You and me
Cut past the trivialities
And get to the core
Great men have been there
Mapping 9 levels to the inferno
Or drawing solitude
But we put on pedestals
All those who divert our attention
From the core
And elevate to the rank of gods
The salesmen of longevity and eternal youth
But you and me
I think that tonight
We could chip at the terrifying core

I saw the germ seed of civilisation
In the metro today
Between Châtelet and St. Michel
It was stuffy
And the ones already in
Made it hard for others to get in
We formed a barricade
Made it look more stuffy
Than it was
Then tutted
Or rolled eyes when others tried to get in
There was a brotherhood
Even though all we had shared
Was the journey
Between Châtelet and St. Michel