Tipsy, Topsy,
Turvy Day...
My mind.
Calloused and sore...
Muffle every temptation to scream with your grimy...
because now the perfect words just don't seem good...
Eye yourself in the mirror, darling:
Shall I drench you in blood for further accuracy...
Start out with an eye.
Contort it...
Many Ages Passed
Ironic Conspiracy Witnessed By...
Shattering Glass Falls.
Move out of the way...
You know something
All the wonderful thins you have told me...
It's ok; I swear I'm fine.
I'm just talking to the dead again...
Shh....speak not, my dear.
Your words slip too smoothly across my skin...
Blood and bile, oh so sweet;
dance my tongue, oh dance...
Riddle your mind with pieces of hope;
smoke yourself out with lies...