Will you show for me? Will you come for me? Mind your dirty bits into my void; there is nothing left for you here less oceans of endless sorrow and apathy.
I find peace in your toils, winning beneath the lines of corruption. The peaceful presentation of arms extended with concern is but false containment. I spoon feed virus with gleaming eyes, giving my praise while anticipating ailments of cessation.
You look at me longingly, feeling parings of your half. The perfection of perfection, guiding and loving you, showing traces of vulnerability and shame. Shameful it’s a ploy-ful play on emotion, carry your loins lovingly to the meat grinder.
Embrace the more of lonely human. It’s painfully sad amid the seeds of false parasitic flowers. Bloom my love; I was never here anyway.
