jetta

Tiers are begging to be set free;
Lip quivers to scream; and heavy head dances with
passions yet to be spoken of with my mute tongue.
Starkly and so very blatenly, in my most forthright way; did I expell the absence of submission I wish laid in your ears.
For someone to bend in curriousity to better examine
the wound that rust's the stapels of my frankinstien heart.
Ignored and rescheduald are my modestly hung words, to be heard some other humbeling day.
Protesting and pleading for a readily waiting angel or devil to ease this pessamists , obtomistic heart and freely shout what can nolonger go whisperd.
A parady of momentairy bliss; One fucking
splended and tragic pause...
The orgasim of my exsistance, recoils then in snug crued embrase...
Am born...
Without flesh to bind me...