Because my ugliness is only seen by the eyes that are sometimes described as beautiful or perhaps it’s that sound I hear when I ignore noise…no one knows any better, call me on my bullshit; beat me at chess; quote a better line, I’ve still got mine. I’ll deconstruct the ‘you-thought’ of me. Lock this away and you’ll still find an argument burried behind fallen parts that just seem destined to not hover, that’s why they descend and even if in some sad way you try to defend what I assure is hopeless, that doesn’t make the inevitability of it any less than what it is…practical! Change the stripes; adjust the spots; make it across the river with your new friend on your back, what do you get; yourself still thinking about rape as an arousal and boredom as a disease. We all beg to please; suffer, squeeze, distract and hope…oh gosh please hope. Die you fuck, choke! make it easy for us all to cope with not missing you and knowing that we had to listen to you gasp for air time one last time.
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