Drunk on polluted farts of the left winds pulled by long noses into witless pens spewing red ink artificial energy from Columbia and caffeine powered husks vacuous soldiers of Mao and Lenin re-drilling Winter Palace debacle woke world of plastics damaged to plastic pollution by damagers fair
Narrow minded short sighted rabbles humming Laissez-faire sanctioners regulating home-brewed hocks equal distribution is hatching Gullivers limb by limp to feed giants makes sense in the senseless vacuum of bacon slashers by Farm pigs beasts of every land and clime this is the new world order by crimson
Pol *** psychologists are making the future cancerous and caffeinated they read minds and pull strings power is making my bad choices, frustration and inadequacies yours two wrong makes right and dare see left as a wrong or you are goner altra right come take lessons on how to mask and leave pointed hats behind......
The pigs gained leadership because they were recognized as the cleverest by the other animals. Someone had to plan out the work, Pigs power rule OK.
Because… you could look me in the eyes and tell me you loved me, When I could still smell her on you. You could lie, straight to my face.. Which torments a humans’ sanity. You could hold me and feel absolutely nothing for me, and to me, That’s completely spineless. I did nothing to deserve the empty lies you filled me with. A forever meant nothing more than a day to you, did it?
My desire is shielded by pale skin and spineless structure The heaving in my chest is my heart clutching the pits of my empty stomach as my lungs whisper honey harmonies Any intention of uttering my fascination is quickly dwindling back into my nail beds *Please don't go
She hates that she is spineless: Starved of strength Emancipated.
She hates that she is passive: She has two legs But cannot stand for anything When faced with a loud voice And menacing words That threaten the tranquility of her dream-world; The dream-world Where conflict is banned And people always have the best intentions Because in essence man is good.
She hates that When faced with a thousand possibilities Tensions rise And gears stick Creak Metal on metal Straining Pushing As she tries not to succumb to her nature But in spite of it all Her head overheats And she overloads The perpetual screaming kettle, *** boiling over, and volcanic eruption All in one
Tiny salted droplets of shame Race down flushed and swollen cheeks As her mental fists Painstakingly punch her essence Into action Fueling a transformation with "Inadequate" "Failure" And "Lazy"
A transformation That never sticks: At least not as well as Her lack of faith in herself.