I'm a lyricist. I'm a menage-a-twois of incorporable feelings. I'm a cerebral assassin. Please unshield your mind. As I mentally fuck you over and under and over and under and round and around the mountain time zone. I twittered myself to shock and disbelief as I stewed in the abscess of my mind.
I'm a danger to myself as I pleasure myself. Uttering nothing but the delicious grunts of a mind ill treated by the graphic imagery as the little boys eat each other. Insipid men flaunting their cravats and swindling pounds as they measure their dicks. Tough luck in the world as I dance upon the trapeze wishing it was a pole. Charming my way into her bed as I flounder into the sorry depths of your heart. Flea ridden mortals always reaching with their hands. Smothering the temptation to smother the excitement in his loins.
I am not a temptress. I have no wares. I only desire to end the mechanical engineered beatings of a nonsensical trust. Love gushes and gargles within the throats of the blind. Truth become the necessary evil to disguise the inflammation of two and three and seven lifes.
As I tried to fuck you over. I've fucked myself.
-- Copyrighted. It belongs to me and the Universe.
