Silk fabrics, spin words like a black widow. Observing shapes on the crest through a cracked window. Faded kinfolk percolate a vicious cycle. Concede the title, passed from an image spiteful. Hooded silhouettes cast a shadow in dystopia, cityscape a gallow the skies hold a rope for ya. Urban paradigm, tantamount to euthanasia. Soured fruits bear the hallmarks of human nature. Twisted labyrinth, apertures soak mundane fragments innate patterns, ways learned through a stained malice. Same chalice bequeathed, from a father deceased, drowned in his sleep under smeared linen sheets. In the belly of the beast, waves echoed familiar, another soul torn in this concrete perimeter.
I won't be satisfied Till something takes my life Too many pills I've been prescribed To many times I take more than I should Something's gonna get me before my time But that's not enough to fulfil my desire I'm standing on a ledge on the side of a bridge may be This might be the thing to quench this thirst The adrenaline's pumping through my veins My mind has been declared insane But I won't be satisfied Till I find a way off this ride Cuz I've lost all desire to keep on fighting I've just run out of thunder and lightning Something's gonna get me before my time Maybe super high speeds through deserted streets Just hope I don't end up Running into a tree I'm still lost within my conscience I've seen too many people come and go Maybe I'm next to end up the mess Maybe I'm next to be blessed But something's gonna get me in the end I don't need to pretend I don't need another reality check Cuz I know I'm getting reckless And I know people couldn't care less I don't feel the need to impress I don't feel the same as I did Something's gonna get me I can feel it in my bones This downward spirals coming to a close Something inside me knows There's not long left to go Before everything in me explodes Before everything shuts down from all the blows Something in me knows There's not much time left to go
Like a melted puddle of cherry popsicle on hot asphalt; I want to lick you up. The sweet parts of you, and the ***** parts too.
I want to feel the grittiness under my teeth. Give me the raw parts of you. The stayed up past 3 am parts of you. The I haven't combed my hair in days parts of you.
Like a breath of cold air in a Midwestern winter, let me breathe you in. Let me absorb you like frozen snowflakes on my tongue.
Let me feel the warm parts of your heart, and the cold parts too. I want to touch you, every inch of you. Show me the scars, and the freckles on your skin.
Tell me the about the dark places of your head, and what keeps you up at night in bed. I want your voice to fill my head, and to savor each word as it rolls off your sweet lips. A slight twang of an accent you don't notice, and don't know where you got it from.
But I do. I notice. I notice every detail of your inches from head to toe. I notice your slight paranoia and the way you fix your hair. I could observe you for an eternity and I wouldn't get bored.
I want you to eat me up inside. I want you to leave a trace in every corner of my room. I want my sheets to smell like you. I want you to get to me. Always. And I want you to read this on those nights you can't sleep. I want it to get to you. Always.
but it's only a story you can tell once, and it's just i don't even remember any of it.
i go in for my hours and come out and can't recall a single thing said.
just mumbling and a few faint faces and the next week schedule and other
tedious adjustments and the fact the mop is broken
and the dust pan tilts to the side
and there's never any fresh meat-
but plenty of onion,
and all girls quit in 4 days after they discover that it's indeed ***** and their acrylic nails aren't suited to scrubbing tiling and grime.
and my sweat drips and it still sticks to me. and i walk home and flip off ******* driving too close to me - challenging me for the fact that i even wake up to this and go at it day after day after day
and she took an additional $40 from my wallet of which i forgot to subract from the $160 total.
it was after a concert.
and i drove home then walked a little bit around a pond and fed a few ducks and it smelled from the rotting goldfish and the old mexican lady washing her clothes with that familiar stench wafting around.
i was tired. but i was buzzed for a good 3 days, and i just don't know what i'm even doing anymore or what this all means.
but the fact that i remembered it must mean something-
maybe that i should try it again,
or at least just buy a doll on amazon for 350 dollars and a new pair of shoes for church on saturday because this other pair is getting kind of ratty.
but really my head itches sometimes and these people outside want to **** me
and the earthquake stole my children from me when i was barren for so many years.
i liked to walk on the sidewalk while wearing an armani suit in the 93 degree heat.
i told him ,
that sometimes your style is a just your manner of thinking of things
and that oftentimes your confusion is just measurement or volume of what really is upsetting your past self in a dimension of
then he nodded and the next day i saw him in the same armani suit in the 93 degree heat telling all the other people the same thing and they started wearing their own armani suits but it stopped being 93 degrees outside and more like a cool 23 centigrade