Text 22 Jun thin line

How long I wander
how long I wonder
Feeling guilty for a time lost in the gravest of holes
And in fletchling states of down ridden games
the world sucks
suckling milky dripping tits of rotten molten flesh
trip at the hip on the heals of fletchling states
fuckers can’t stand the stench of their own vomituios effections
towards the armed lovers of distant cultures
stitched the shirt before the shit was even sewn together
swaying back and forth like kleenex on a dark undampened street
fleet to foot and falling longing for another
once you liken the tramp to the the preist and see the plumage of rage
go and turn away
run fucker run
run as fast as your silly little fletchling feet will carry you
to tomorrow
eternal in youth
impermanent in age wither the fuck away
into tomorrows land of forgotten uncharted scenes
the truth is they’ve been charted over and over and over and over and over and over
NOT THAT YOU CAN EVER FUCKING SEE
NOT THAT YOU”D EVER FUCKING LISTEN
to all those people those people those people
ALL THOSE PEOPLE
who’ve been there over and over and over and over and over and over
countless times before you
before the likes of you there were only
the like of you
have you ever stared into your mirror
long enough to see what you despise
clearly out your window


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