A sketch in not concrete
personal and quick
Not dry cracked stone
subconcious exposure
take away my design with no focus
trip over my own thoughts
survival instinct kicking out
flesh enjoyed but not revered
anthems reach only one person
word-of-mouth
no advertising
ride in on three bleached notes
sharp metal synthetic
love in my abyss
just words, you know?
Pay attension to glossy screams
Fat Flesh dying in the city
fake orgies, no satisfaction
flying vermin, greasy hair
no mould works on her now
tragic - a waste of my time
maturity doesn't come easy
blame, something that does
quick and selfish
not my scene
thin eyes
cuts.
(c) Sion Tetlow, 2003
04 October 2003
Posted by
Cecil B. Demented
at
14:06
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