Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck
Fuck
Fuck you.
And fuck me.
And fuck everything.
(And I'm so fucking tired.)
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Hello My Morbid Little Darlings
What are you doing?
Talk, talk talk.
You're leaving your fucking guts on the floor behind you.
Do you intend to spew your heart to every passing star?
They'll be burnt out long before you, cold, cold Pluto.
That boy is one thing, break a few eggs to steal a few eggs. What the hell kind of omelette you're making is beyond me, but hey.
But the rest? Where is your necessity?
Cease.
Oh, cold Pluto, in love with every passing
flickering shooting star.
Their warmth brushing your
icy hard surfaces in the parody of a
lover's caress.
Oh, cold Pluto, in your inexonerable
crawl toward nothingness.
Those stars streak past trailing
childish laughter just at the edge of hearing as a
piteous echo.
Oh, cold Pluto,
Talk, talk talk.
You're leaving your fucking guts on the floor behind you.
Do you intend to spew your heart to every passing star?
They'll be burnt out long before you, cold, cold Pluto.
That boy is one thing, break a few eggs to steal a few eggs. What the hell kind of omelette you're making is beyond me, but hey.
But the rest? Where is your necessity?
Cease.
Oh, cold Pluto, in love with every passing
flickering shooting star.
Their warmth brushing your
icy hard surfaces in the parody of a
lover's caress.
Oh, cold Pluto, in your inexonerable
crawl toward nothingness.
Those stars streak past trailing
childish laughter just at the edge of hearing as a
piteous echo.
Oh, cold Pluto,
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