Dear Skin

Electronic babble
Shove off with thine elastic attitude
You condescending fuck hole, you tiny little prick
You don’t have the persuasion to crash down my power of hope with rationalization

Tower of rubble, shovel dirt back in that open hole
My soul residing? Hiding there
A devilish grin of rich desire, more fire devouring flame
And shame on you, rust beggar, the one I’ve longed for
You splendid whore

No gift perhaps, to reason on the lips of this sad, mad man
Overtaken by a vile dream in which I tumbled to earth on my disassembled feet
And you must not treat me like the others; we are not one in the same
Removed, proved to be of higher honor, least the trumpets wail
Fail to find release from this anchor, rancor of bullshit ties, these drownings

Electronic babble
Tower of rubble – shovel dirt back in that open hole
No gift perhaps to reason on the lips of this sad/madman
God forgive my slightly shifting lines in thought disfiguration

Meat as meat… defeat the source of that which spurns thee
As for me, do not mistake my misgivings as indifference to this madness that surrounds me
Often time I flee from this torturous mindstyle/deathstyle reunion
Just another onion head
Polished meal of spine structure and jaundiced horns
All the endless fragments of this distorted view of life
My soul, sold… My being? Maybe
Toss, turn, burn the smile that tries to waste you
There is no hope in repetative warfare/nightmare but then again, who the fuck am I to care?
Let us take heed of memories foretold, dear skin

King of queens and Knave of nothing, I
Dear skin