Day 14

Unkown to us all at the carnivores ball, i pull out my gun and wonder
Given us all, morose in the stall, pandering to the supposed plunder
the creeps and the geeks and the liver-stock reeks
of cider and dandelion powder.
I ate the cheeks, of your lean weeks,
pissing in hot steamy candor.

-

A burning box of leaves of rocks.
I'm a parcel of inbound ruin
You're a liar with gall
You're the thief at the ball
Who kissed my tender heart

But i prefer a tragedy
a therapeutic booting apart