Get angry and get even, mock the lion and get eaten. (Honey/sweetheart/darling), we need to talk about North Korea. He's gonna **** himself with that lean hatred. And he's more broken than we said - it's more than a crack, we've got nine times two pieces. And he's more angry than he admits, because when hearts fracture they're left seething - gritted teeth and eyes beaming - (sink your ******* teeth in).

And if we're being honest we're not.
And if we're pointing fingers, it's all his fault.
               He was always a ******* cnt. Is this what they call tough love?
                                                                    Misplaced anger going back where it belongs?

     I       won't     give    up. Iwon'tgiveup.

Saturday I read their books and I listened to their birds and they're all joking about how he's so ******* absurd. Twenty Mondays, thirteen Sundays - they only read picture books, declare a war and they'll only giggle at your below average looks.

All they do is cry.
All they do is laugh.
All they do is lie there,
                                     indifferently.
                                        just like me..

The toxins make this possible. Cocktails charged with absolutely no intentions, they'll do whatever you won't let them. Armed with sharpened malice and a lack of direction, and the company swoops in and brands them with the worst affections. No direction no direction no direction.

Honey, please call me. I'm pretty sure we're gonna lose him to this infection.

( read more here: bonafidebedou.blogspot.com)

The Boy
“A superb young boy and a dismal excuse for a man,” said the pastor.

“A stupid baby, my stupid baby,” his mother wept.

“A handsome neighbor and a charming thief,” whispered Mary-Jane.

“A sheepish grin and lips fresh with duplicity,” wrote the poet.

“A savvy talker amongst witless pawns,” smirked his presence.

“I’m okay,” he lied one last time.

His absence was the last to leave, and it laughed, it laughed.

The Lie
To his mouth it was zesty sweet, like lemonade on a steaming summer’s day.

To his ears, it was funny little fact or a joke, a twisted truth.

But to his mother’s it was a headliner..

Mary-Jane’s thought it was a haunting reality..

At least until the last time they ignored his cries, declined the truth but swallowed the lies.

The Cry
On Monday they heard it all the way down the block.

On Tuesday it only reached the half-point.

On Wednesday only the neighbors heard.

On Thursday it didn’t leave the house.

On Friday it had no time to leave his mouth.

The Wolf**
The wolf belched and slipped backed into the forest.

He doused me in gasoline.
Promised me they'd wash away my fire if I let them.
He doused me in gasoline.
Promised me all I need was my passion.
He doused me in gasoline.
But about the burning, he hadn't mentioned a thing.
He played with matches.
Taught me how to swallow the pain.