procure this

when gentle angels become notches in bedposts and operettas become lyrical monstrosities...

bert's unibrow like the caterpillar who metamorphosises into the butterfly i wish i could become...

screaming my mothers name through a net of spittle...to come out sounding like a baby babbling blah blah ma...

i'm sparing those false idols i yearn to slide my time card into...punch the holes and mark the time so that i know how long i've yet to suffer...

how long until i'm spared...

felating the drunken dreams of making children with men who don't love women...and are more broken than i can speak of...

we're damned...

you and i will always be the same...made up of the same stuff no matter where we are...

and i want to be the hero of children who don't yet have conscious thought...

if only i were influence...

if only you were under the influence...

if only you and i didn't mix like oil and vinegar...

tasting great together, but we'll end up separating...we can't hide inside each other...

when the chamber finally breaks us down...only then...will we become the carbons and hydrogens and oxygens...

and we can finally see what we're made of...