By Arcassin Burnham

I don't mind your feral sences, we Could burn a million flames just to
Cure the sadness,
Do I believe in love?
Not quite from your petty personal vendettas,
They'll  fly above,
But the upside Is that everyone should be
given a fair trial,
And more Pampers and more formula for
Every single child,
But the world is too twisted in endless loops
Of peril and chaos,
And destruction and death,
It musen't be a ****** to have to breathe
your last breath,
Fairly twisted and devoted to a state that's more loyal to Satan
Than anything we've ever seen,
Buildings touch the sky in flames in between logic and metaphorical
Cemeteries with symbolic links to all broken dreams,
Touched by an angel in all of the rights ways making sure that you
Could get through the day without screams,
When **** hit the fan , who do you believe?

jeg kan høre
dine nervøse
skidt
på gangen
din endeløse mumlen
din pusten og stønnen
jeg kan fornemme dit selvhad
gennem dine tomme ord
dit syge
blik
dit nervøse tonefald
din nervøse gestik
den raslen
med dine piller
dine klik med musen
der gentagende gange
får dig til at græde
dit skrig
dine råb
om hjælp