Surrounded by thoughts and skin, And a faded ego long worn thin, Sits a quiet child, Its memories piled, Around it in the dark.
Hi yyyesiam, I like it, you have me feeling Goth. Dark and brooding my wild one stands and stares, mentally making snares and signal flares, to call the wretched in excess to excite, incite, and wrong the rights. Night begs my sadly Sadely lady, lately caught in thoughts of fanciful dancers dripping blood droplets, while whirling about the room. Swoon, so soon she does, falling limply at my side, held in a careless embrace - not face to face, while emotional waste piles up threatening to consume and inundate, swamped by a strange brew drowning us in a viscous pool of burned out feelings. Wheeling away dragging the corpse of our union into oblivion, watching everyone overtake us, blowing by to enjoy this mad macabre spectacle. The debacle of debasers, freebasers, soul erasers eroded in spirit by sampling the bitterness of cold apathy. A romantic death by fiery flames will purify the pagans within.
drank some acohol, laid down on my back with my eyes closed at some point in the night, and that's what came out.
