Tuesday, September 10, 2002

don't worry, really.

apathy invaded by blood, replaced by tears
the pain, blade, sharp dull everlasting ache.
what does your self-help manual have to say?
dirty habit dirty
smells like death
eats me alive
running candy licked off,
cherry red
enough for my pages, my public
my every whim and desire.
go ahead and put the filthy SHIT all over your face.

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