brain-child of a paregoric deficiency
( blown to the central skill )
sick-fuck baby-girl of a licking torture
you could be the newsprint boy
with the cherub lipstick and the fancy boots
( fulfillment in the shadows
in the rift
of the dripping youth )
unconditional love is the opiate
of the powerless
( cast my seed upon her tender lips )
the children are
a groupthink of hyperchondriasis
intrinsically motivating the ethersphere to
molest their
beautiful innocence
( bury us deep in her every hole )
loneliness
is a come-on and perfume across the
salty skin of humiliation
is as close to honesty as most men get
( extinction performs the sickest acts )
rather than penetrate the sacred
ground of response
( we choose to haunt the reality
of our sadly blackened mirrors )
Birth sign: Taurus
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