quiet in approach with unlocked jaw aimed right at one's worth
then the exchange of bad for worse encapsulates your desperation
mocking the one thing you've uttered revered
But its all just dripping carcinogens
the lines afforded from that air of general ubiquitous placating
those without sight, in or fore, would reach there for their speeches
and often do
generally lost in the haze of how or who will bring that fleeting ego's fix
while the flatulence of stale attempts leaves one arid and limp
yanked in the mirror
look into the eyes of the red walls dropping away from one's tangibility
desperate to be rid of that garbage disposal line
of half country-fried bewilderment
of almost having made
It's all shit for the pile's height
breeding ground for the writhing
soon to have wings for nesting on lower lids
high pressure dousing that good guard away 'til atrophied in all's worst favorited characters
now only audience to the idiocy of the coming grasping and clawing at the storied glint
depicted in fragmented loops now grimed-over and dulled
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