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David Watt Sep 2010
Wandering eyes are always watching you Angel,
Hungry for a bit more clevage.
desperate for a bit more leverage,
to tip you into their peverse laps.
to straddle dance and wear their hats.

Where do you go when hands are tracing Angel?
Feeling every curve and dip.
lingering on painted lips.
Is it innocent peacefull and uncorrupt.
unlike these "moral" men broke and bankrupt.

Sit by me my pretty Angel.
fear not from me a twisted angle,
for with you i do not wish to tangle.
whisper hear your secret name,
and tell me how you came to play this game,
of torturous and wicked pain,
hidden by this mask so vain.
David Watt May 2011
Unchained and unbound,
I'm running to no finish.
Famous loved fury,
Blood is running undiminished.

With these teeth,
The flesh I tear.
With these words,
In anger I share!

Twisted and peverse,
I'm enjoying every second.
Delicious pure obscenity,
The fires burn and beckon.

With my eyes,
I consume each emotion,
My presence is toxic,
Like an unlabled potion.

Till chains reach in,
Constrict and bind.
The passion dwindles,
Moralitys so blind.

In my mind,
I'm scared to find,
The damage that is now entwined.
In corners where no light has shined.
I had a nightmare the night i wrote this, it was a rather terrifying dream, I didnt feel myself throughout the whole thing. It was like I was myself but with no inhibitions, just pure desire and limitless anger, though it was scary it was strangely addictive, at the same moment I was desperate to wake up, but equally so confused that I wanted to stay dreaming....I am never going on a coffee binge ever again.......
David Watt Sep 2010
Breath that caught when in your attention,
has been released by this most painful correction.
Heartbeats that fluttered in adoration,
now wrack and twist in aggrevation.

You are a fake a liar a heavenly curse.
Who spins a spell in every verse.
A twisted reflection,
of an apparent Perfection.

Your absence sends me into ecstacy.
no more feeling of inadequacy,
no more living in duality,
afraid to brave reality.

i miss you no more,
from my diary this page is tore.
peverse reflection,
spin you spells in another direction.

— The End —