Funneled at the waist, a waste Anne on hold, Abel plain
The same plain, made hard and will have me to till
Till unweel wit, a will, still and get tilled
Ultimate glory, A piece of flesh. Lost, running from nothing really
Without a personality, funneled at the waste
Never seen in the mirror as whole, the glass stayshalf empty, the reason for the need to be burdened,
Bordened wont walk without pregnancies or backabes
funneled what a waste, Collective intelligence Collective fears, collective ignorance
regardless of all the collective intellect you collect.
down the pole of the sacrificed altar, run from the spiral shell of abyss
never chase me no, not with those skirts on
funnel at the waste hell drips from under
devil sweats atop let this sweats drip from his forehead into your mouth.
Pull your hairs and turn you into a weighing scale. The name of leudal savagery,
pelvic wide and separated - friends
an inverted caret for putting all downenslaved mentality answering to a half wit benevolent protruded muscles
funneled at the waste masochistic forever pisces
self victimized,that stigmatic fish smell
constantly wrapped Lips with cleft palette
Shoes and bags will never fill the emptiness inside
Freckled and pressed against. your will reimburse my disgust
never chase me no, not with those skirts on
by VICTOR SAMUEL
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