code_red

Imagine my surprise as you spit out archaic twisted metal for words, with effectionally torn bladders then piss on the sidewalks I tread. For someone so silent you spilled heartbeats off of window ledges so they made an unpleasant thump throughout the barrio. Everyone heard you. Everyone heard how you made her cry. This disease has riddled me to my last fiber, so that everything is destroyed like glass vials of your most powerful seditive; the ones you take to forget the love. I am your spilled conscience. You are the lack of paper towels. This is your ending. We are just beginning.