| Only On May 2nd to shape this man. he is my punching bag, that's the way it should be, right? raw violence and his blood spilling, the killing, the healing and i put him back together again. i make him whole again, then i tear him down again. he is my canvas, him i create and destroy, and compose in me. what does he represent? the sun versus the whole universe. he is ice being crushed on the ground where his antisoul dies under the soles of my appendages. this child i digest and regurgitate. this feeling is no longer internal, is no longer invalid. can i accept you? can i feel you in the midst of acid/base heaven? can i look across space and be connected to you... one dragon tail at a time? forever in your hands, antisoul, in you, mi muerte. wait, i just want to fall for a second. just let me marvel at my creation, my regurgitation, my inspiration, vexation, create my nation. be ammonia in my dihydrogen monoxide, i wont tell. i promise. cuz i know we make ammonia and hydroxide and heat. me and you. sit down non-lookalike, i think i know you. i think i've seen your face before. i'll lean closer to your eyepatch so that i may understand. can you see how i yearn to taste your pain alone? i think i'm lovin' you. |