(Seriously?
You want to have a war of words with me?)
Some sensibilities seek to save they
offer no solution they only enslave.
Words
are like bacon wrapped around an all beef hotdog. They taste good on your
tongue but once inside the indigestion will collide with the rejection till it
flows like liquid out your anus it made you so sick. Some of us are hopping on pogo
sticks and that is all we have ever accomplished, some of us are screaming into
microphones raging at the all alone where we float among a sea of faces. Trophies
are for high speed races, the rest of us listen to Adele and identify. I only
care that you try to drag me over the jagged rocks with your incessant waves,
the endless pounding that will save some concept of soul by stripping the flesh
off the bone till all evidence of me is gone. And what is overlooked on the
fisherman’s hook is that which is caught cannot be delectable until it is
seasoned to taste and in all your haste you can’t simply see that all I want is
to be accepted as me and not the me you need me to be in order for me to be a
part of your scheme of things which dictate what everyone should be for love to
be properly digested.
***
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