PrivilegeA Poem by volplaneI'm scraping mud off the bottom of my shoes - And wondering where I went wrong, that I deserve a pair of shoes.
The kitchen is an organism, its breathing, and growing, and I think it developed consciousness. get out the house to the necropolis its kind of dark inside but i'm gaining confidence in my ability to battle hoards of insanity " monotonous.
you saw a lost child, I saw a free man I see the dried up noodles in the frying pan. I wont clean it, I refuse to think about it all damning gold, damned to the pit
i'm the lions den, you're the jar of syrup you're the work horse, i'm the feet on the stirrup
they said I could never be a star, i'd rather be a supercluster these specs are in my way, get my super duster I eat my hot dogs with ketchup, hold the mustard. castles are always colder when they're empty. © 2015 volplane |
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