dualism and all that jazz

hey man take it easy.

 

just sit back and kick back and

well dont smoke crack.

 

 

its night time and my hands look hideous.

 

they are veiny and old looking and dry.

 

the knuckles.

like glass edges.

 

stick through my snake like

reptile scaly

skin.

 

 

but the fingers a reong and beautiful.

 

not really.

but the ladies, least the ones who venture to the end of my

pointer

 

havent complained.

 

 

 

 

i'm sad.

and it drives me mad.

 

 

i see the boy,

though tnot a boy now.

when we were

we were boys.

 

i see his blood on my hand, and on the edge of the blade.

 

 

and i scream out i'm sorry it isnt me

but all that comes out is yeah m**********r.

 

 

 

 

 

 

i'm an animal.

and i have no worth.

 

 

tear me to vicious threads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i still my angel in my dreams

and i tell her i'm sorry.

each time she smiles and says whatever for my love.

 

 

 

 

 

the dud isnt in now. leave a message.