brokenheartsbleeding

who is so closely edited they are dead inside of there one books? i know who is who is who is you and i see right damn straight through you. you outlet ant matter is an illusion a mind contusion a lucid representation of idiocy and hypocrisy and insipid droves shown love will follow. a new brain will follow. someone who's not just a privileged program. nothing but a tool i see you tools all there fools following leads on a thousand ends. fuck your science and fuck your lists of latin names. and fuck all your memories you aren't so smart you just got an iq of two listed in a thousand pieces of paper running off to nowhere . . . looping all together forums stream down eyelids pseudo genius will tell genius it is pseudo when they are nothing but a shell . nothing but a perspective of a migrating bird in flight. go and smile you cunts. revival fire name title nothing is copyrighted. nothing is real but the one who peers over my shoulder corner wall . . . wall you in and cut you down you fu

looking out at the sea of phot shop drag queens
picking through the zip files and the glamor
glam cams and there pin hole scans scarring scareing
me weeping weeping
gigabytes
and i don't feel to good
ifeel to real
the scent of my skin
brings me round
to your contours i scope you
down down down
and i found out
you were ten times
magnified
the eye i was
and i was
a balloon doe eyed stare
letting the lines smooth grove pout
mewl lips loud lips silent lips
black lips black angels drown drown
it's all overrated rapped bullshit transmissions
i can do without

staring out beyond my eyes so hard to see you past the second glass double vision everything doubles on me so hard to see beyond the two eyes to see through me to see you . . . in san fran i was having big black guys hit me as hard as they wanted and they couldn't move me from where i dropped my dead weight* i didn't even bruise* ever notice how you can see your own face your under eye lid? stare back down at you because your own face detaches and you parabole slip inside the face cascading outside the halo hair curl down round your own glow and everyone sees an angle swimming toward them . . . inside there own dream not the dream that was dreamed around them just the scent of skin cascading into them poring over and over until there's nothing today just acollective melee of times frames intersecting to mesh a whole and the two eyes saw that hole was looking at them to begin with this they all went down down down . . . down the hole* not to the brink of the sink they slapped there wris