antipunk

I awoke to tinder thoughts of music walks and singing on a pipeline. I fell asleep moments after and re-awoke to rotting flesh and cigarettes with bullets piercing throats, fallen brains, splattered remains and choking as I spoke.

Its a regret of mine to feel design, I think therefore I am. This madness runs like sacred tongues chanting back romance. Its what you need to believe that this life is real, but I remember when your blood was cold and nothing you would feel.

The wretched work you've put to worth has made yourself a meal. It paid out dividends, calculated sin and taught you how to steal. It wasn't gold nor stone you was told,