Hear eye sit on my throne of body parts and pheces, only looking for closure from the sincerst parts of the world wide web confined and debilitated, controlled and anally raped for the roughest part is no lubrication. Hair held back like a reins of a mare, (sic)ly scorned and laughed you are no muse no salvation, and yet i play. pay and play like a video arcade, with no spiritual advance end. no why only just because... the love is a time again illness, from a partner of buull shit future, economical refinenment, the oven just hott enough, to not b3 called a genocide. these rules are ridiculous to even the minor of justly victimization, my thrown my people...of gnats. swimming around aimlessly, to cash in on that costlty american dream. no i would move, far far away if eye could, but my self inflicted scars of doubt. GLAD you are HAPPY but cant ignore how much a lie that smile is to meye eyes. Trandscend to ascend the descend with no unmoral support. All alone and deep in thot, gradually become a cadaver of another days work. This momentary peace is broken, bashed, shattered, skinned, and torn. deep in such a cataclysmic pit of self ought. The throne of your pheces, and eye bare the stench, eye bare it... because what is this 360 degree of failed rememberance. the weight eye took on these shoulders. The pressure to poke out my 3rd eye. Die I will. Die I must. This, eye am, what jesus desciples would call, meye very own, mindfully bodywoven soul, Scum of mother earth.