So let me abuse you. You're weak and repulsive, your fear is pungent and you know no bounds. You can't hear the echo of sounds in your static sepulchre, you're vulgar. Even unclean you stay pristine in me, your memories weep, cleanliness seeps. And I'm sick of the white noise. I'm sick of the high tide. Stick the the shoreline before the ocean becomes a rhythm that rhymes and our rhymes collide, sending the butterflies flying to skies we can't reach in time.
We're fated. We're fucked up and jaded. We need more coke.
We've lost all hope.
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i real like your stuff you have to write more please
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