untitled

I don't want to fall to death and all of his friends.
And I could see you were roughed up on gravel with bruised knees. And blue cheeks and black river reefs and died hair. Poroxide and lockers kept photos of Sherman's dead children, kin of mistletoe and nooses and loosely laid rouges. Hair brushes in tangles and mud-locks of mangles. Please dear, release the spangles on the guests of the dinner parties. They'll spill whine and mess their suits infront of the CTV; the guards will giggle. And toilet patrons will finally mingle: this is what we're missing out on, at the elementary levels. Forget them quick, children, forget them quick.

And since I fell for that spell, I am living there as well.

Well,not for much longer. I beat the teachers, I couldn't get much wronger. I snapped the kids necks in half and sweared at them in Tongan. I graffiti'd all over the toilet walls and made revolutionary calls. Can't you tell I'm not liked?

   Fuck the pain away.

In a dizzying haze of blood and clay, blunt heavy instruments.

I love the feeling of whiplash in the morning.

Good morning (Vietnam). You hit me again, hit me again. Spin my head round a billion times. Like coffee at twelve in the midnight. The early morning blues, and blacks and reds and yellowish tones, colouring bruised faces. Russian girls, I'm like the dolls drooling out of themselves; another shell falls off and placed up on the shelf. A victory bottle for the top game hunter.

And then he plated me in gold and shoved me in his games room. I'm hoping that we're on the same line, that our thoughts are each others divorced bride and groom. So please...

Tell me you're on politik.