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like
theatre
seeing images
of relentless
un-reality
dreams
and i find i can feel safer in sleep
denying myself time to find
deeper seeds of truth
to why i'm feeling
soluptuous reeling
and the need to escape to fantastic places
bending
the beam of my perception
and something
undefinable takes root
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK
FUCK FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
how i'm feeling
maybe sleep
is safer
something may
be raging
in a part of me
i choose not to be watching
because explosions
are not socially acceptable
things
in this place
in this race
of teeming
bleeding
bastards
of some slippery
sex
like it would smell
in your
room after
your parents have just fucked all over your bed
they're probably fat
fat sex
is stinky sex
you come from stinky fat
sex
i am speaking to all humanity
of you
perhaps bar me...
perhaps
but who am i kidding
this is the reason i'm here
writing
momma
you couldn't have made him strap on a rubber?!
cause it feels like
this is a fucked up situation
this is a fucked up situation
and eloquence has become a memory
and metaphor is for
those in hiding
and i just don't feel like
keeping this all out of sight
lord knows it's been
long since it's seen any
light