every time i see your face, it reminds me of the places, we used to go
when will it stop. its almost too bad. i mean, too bad, not too bad to live, but like "oh? gee, that's too bad, man" yikes.
so...turns out that she is a serial killer raised by wolves with teeth that fucking hurt. i dont know about you but nearly getting your ear and face gnawed off is absolutely NOT hot. plus theres that really creepy weird vibe thats just plain off putting. what was i thinking anyway? what do i ever think? i wish i know. i hate trying to figure it out and usually i manage to just ignore it. but "every time i see your face, it reminds me of the places we used to go, but all i have is a photograph"...and i wish that you were coming back. but wishing doesn't get a person anywhere i learned that long ago. and now i'm just ranting, and for the longest time my thoughts were silent to those they were meant for...but now it seems that that is no longer the case, and i could almost care less. oh well, what the hell. so it goes. and all the while the mother earth races round and round never stopping for anyone, never thinking to slow down, only caring for itself.
that pretentious bitch.
she was the prettiest whore in all of paris
she wore red silk and lace and had hepatitis and syphillis
at the same time
every night the drunken fishermen would laugh
at her as they fucked her
as they fucked her in the eye
because she only had one.
and because they could
the night i met her was cold and gray
and as she unzipped her violently red silk
unfastened her blinding crimson lace
she carefully dropped her glass eye
into a jar of water on th bedside table.
and it looked at me.
it stared at me
it
infuriated me.
tearing at my clothes with a vengance i pumped
and ground against her and all the while
her eye.
her bobbing glass eye stared at me
knowing
laughing as i fucked away my pretentions
fucked away my obsessions
and i laughed right back at it grinding
at her empty socket
just another crude fisherman
inanother
dirty
hotel
one of these days i need to actually sit the fuck down and write my book.
but no one seems to want to leave me alone for that long.fuckers. i hate them all.
hmmm...
would you guys still love me if i became a cop??
so...turns out that she is a serial killer raised by wolves with teeth that fucking hurt. i dont know about you but nearly getting your ear and face gnawed off is absolutely NOT hot. plus theres that really creepy weird vibe thats just plain off putting. what was i thinking anyway? what do i ever think? i wish i know. i hate trying to figure it out and usually i manage to just ignore it. but "every time i see your face, it reminds me of the places we used to go, but all i have is a photograph"...and i wish that you were coming back. but wishing doesn't get a person anywhere i learned that long ago. and now i'm just ranting, and for the longest time my thoughts were silent to those they were meant for...but now it seems that that is no longer the case, and i could almost care less. oh well, what the hell. so it goes. and all the while the mother earth races round and round never stopping for anyone, never thinking to slow down, only caring for itself.
that pretentious bitch.
she was the prettiest whore in all of paris
she wore red silk and lace and had hepatitis and syphillis
at the same time
every night the drunken fishermen would laugh
at her as they fucked her
as they fucked her in the eye
because she only had one.
and because they could
the night i met her was cold and gray
and as she unzipped her violently red silk
unfastened her blinding crimson lace
she carefully dropped her glass eye
into a jar of water on th bedside table.
and it looked at me.
it stared at me
it
infuriated me.
tearing at my clothes with a vengance i pumped
and ground against her and all the while
her eye.
her bobbing glass eye stared at me
knowing
laughing as i fucked away my pretentions
fucked away my obsessions
and i laughed right back at it grinding
at her empty socket
just another crude fisherman
inanother
dirty
hotel
one of these days i need to actually sit the fuck down and write my book.
but no one seems to want to leave me alone for that long.fuckers. i hate them all.
hmmm...
would you guys still love me if i became a cop??