Bliss and sweet escape His hallowed lips but nothing Changes what I hate.
When he wonders why I could never love him back; I want to say, “Because I’m fucking sick of you.” And that is really true. The mistake I had made Was not to tell it straight Until it was too late. And he drove me to exasperated shreds, His constant whinging, begging and thinking his …
I never saw it Coming out of the sunlight Glorious mighty flight.
I saw your Soul in your eyes Before I remembered that I was Blind.
He never said much My hands were all that he touched Beneath the black muck.
Despondently yours Pen, paper, ink, they write true The demon in you.
There are days, and then there are *days*. The former, the kind of days one lives, and passes by with the significance of the mundane, the routine, the known, the comfortable. And then, there is the latter *days*. The kind where everything goes right. All because he saw right into your heart, and made the …
There is a dark thing That leads me to fear our cries My own wrath, it dies.
If I gave you my Heart, dripping with dark Love If I flushed out my Shame, awkward with Crime If I begged for your Grace, breaking with Bad If I loaded my Glock, pulsing with Poison If I trashed your place, lie with the Waste Is that alright with you?
Fleetingly, frolicking in the light of the final flatfoots Fleur-de-lys flipping ‘neath your fixated frown Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, fumes the giant hungry for Englishmen Your flushed ferrels flummoxed but Free.