Tied and True
Buzz saws, bass lines I've heard 1,000 times. The cutting whine increases. The young mothers cover children's ears. Why not the eyes? Cold sweat, followed by coffee leave sand barren cafeteria trays. Another young mother, most on their way. Groans file stupidity. A disdain for ink tasted only among modern man's paradigm. Decapitation lies somewhere in everyone's mind now, tucked away with breast augmentation and sluiced memories of childhood; hidden for all their horror. A grandmother at 39. Arms kept close to chest; for defense? Daily exercise among bed spread sales. Taint. Controlled air and t-shirt slogans lie. Far beyond talent is deceit's haven. How much of what is said is filler? How important is it to be filled?
The music exists
To fill the silences
We've forgotten words for
A pack of ravenous teenage girls once waylaid this place. They laid waste to all in sight. Sucking off real slow the details and gasping in a horrid ecstasy of visceral consumption. Creating within themselves new reality, where talent and beauty can be passed by bodily fluids, and they, to they only, became a part of nous.
The mephisto movement closes in. A dangerous project to begin with. Pragmatic perspective can gain all but the smallest details. Those most important, sincere clips that contain value, rather than filler. Lessened size will lead to enormous import. We're short on (time that I've ignored till now). The exterminator approaches. A wrench of sound, avocado implant. Freshness, reserved for corporations. Palpitation short of heat-death. I am my own universe, to dedicate to another, lost in a galaxy.
The music exists
To fill the silences
We've forgotten words for
A pack of ravenous teenage girls once waylaid this place. They laid waste to all in sight. Sucking off real slow the details and gasping in a horrid ecstasy of visceral consumption. Creating within themselves new reality, where talent and beauty can be passed by bodily fluids, and they, to they only, became a part of nous.
The mephisto movement closes in. A dangerous project to begin with. Pragmatic perspective can gain all but the smallest details. Those most important, sincere clips that contain value, rather than filler. Lessened size will lead to enormous import. We're short on (time that I've ignored till now). The exterminator approaches. A wrench of sound, avocado implant. Freshness, reserved for corporations. Palpitation short of heat-death. I am my own universe, to dedicate to another, lost in a galaxy.