She's no
Fragile
*******
Flower

She'll plant
Seeds
in
sanity

And grow
Through
Telepathic
Psychopathy

Passed
the
past
too rough
for diamonds

What didn't **** her
made her outpower
her ego

And she sent her soul
To cocktease
my cognitive construct
in haunting hallucinations

The girl next door
frantically feeling me up
via shared consciousness

She
suppressed
this obsession
So she's always
locked in my mind
like a ***** secret

She holds
the key
like a
cuckold

constricting roots
to hold me down
to Earth
with
no
release

She's
a wild
*******
flower

Caged I crawl,
Within the filth of society,
Labelled a freak by those who call others blind,
But how does that give them vision?

If you see me as different,
Then obviously I'm a threat,
So you must contain me and chain me,
You call me weak, yet you think you're strong?

But over time,
You cage too many of us,
We are the new society,
With labels we wrote ourselves,
And this inevitable insanity,
Will now only be endured by you,

Because you're normal,
And we're blind,

But we can see you,
And we'll cage you.

Her folly lies in her capacity to love dangerously,
For she loves in many faces, in many words and in many tongues.
She lives inside her love, mutating her heart ever so.
Relishing, perilously, in the daze of its endangerment.
And for the fragments of her heart she is so terribly loved in return.
But only for a moment.
For she holds too much insanity in her sorrowful bones.
It infests her blue veins and plays with her hair.
It kisses her in the darkness of hidden longing,
And traces her skin with wistful desire.
Her insanity holds her to the wall and caresses her neck.
Her insanity gives her a cigarette and watches her blue smoke dance with a smile in the early morning.
Her insanity laughs with her in a melancholy haze of youthful poverty.
Her insanity holds her in his arms.
Her insanity is inescapably wistful.
It finds her in the night,
In the secret carousels of woeful nostalgia.
Her insanity has destroyed her so, and has so wickedly masked it as bliss.
She is irrevocably doomed, for she will spend her days submerged in an ocean of faces;
Hoping, so beautifully desperately,
That she will find a piece of him inside them.
-

*"Can I stay here a little longer?
I'm so happy here."

I'm seriously considering blowing my brains out,
Gray matter that used to hold my consciousness
now plastering the walls behind my carcass.
       Blood Art,
a new cultural norm for an over populated planet.
Euthanasia be dambed lets ****
the innocent,
the consumer,
the ******.
I could cure this planet of all it's problems
if only I had more ink in my pen
and more shells in my Shotgun