Fifth Amendment Right Against Self-Incrimination
It trickles down. That is what they say. Trickle down economy, trickle down education, relationship. Psychosis. A break. A tear in the oesophagus . A collapsed lung. Non breathing pattern. You hide your shit. You mend your shit. You live. I promised. She promised. Trickle down promises. Loneliness. Breaking pattern. Breaking walls. Chairs. Tables, wardrobes. Hate machine, hate speech. Hate love. Love cancer. Love death. Love memento morry. Moments. Missiles. Massacre. Mass media. Mass shooting. Mass abortion. Abort my feelings!
Reaching for bottom. Reaching for …. grails. Filled with rotten water. Fist table. Me. Mess. Me and your SS. Single Service. Silent Sting. All that came moved away quite quickly. Your silence. Tares like pitchforks. Gentle massacre. But no, makeup UP. Face on. Smile. Lipstickm out of the contoure. SMILE. A perfect masterpiece. Piece of shit self definition.I fucked up. Let down. Burned. I am so confusing. Bitch craft professional. Confesionals. I mistreated. Burned and killed. Swallowed and spit out. I am a festive melted plastic. Shiny ornament. Autistic tendencies. Mind, box of riddles. It’s all about being special.
See through liquid dripping from eye orifices
*Product Placement* - I am water proof jedy.
A stone cold glitter sparkle statue.
They strap poster to ones forehead pretending, one calls bulshit. Share furniture, plates, knifes and forks in circles and drawers. Future reference. Fruitlessly marching and keeping notes. Not enough support. Failing anti malware systems. Shall play the role of a virus. Watch the rash spreading throughout. Bury and poison.
Perfect girlfriend syndrome. Offering support network to self absorbed ego. Giving acid reflux. Should be sorry. Me in my rabbit hole. Filled with static metamorphosis. Put the low beat on. Lets dance in caged 2 rooms separated. Cleaning dust from memory bank. Observing pictures. The *you have memories with* function should be considered a crime. Murder. Of lyrical repeal. Pleading the 5th. Marching hand in hand with vendetta. Rubbing of the mask of idealistic expectation one had for me. Everyone want to fuck the naked chick on the side of a performance van. So special, feel so special. Unliveable. Scan the resolve. At least i did not got one pregnant. But perhaps could with my vain pulling needle point pressure tactics. Wrapping self in plastic. Aborting roles and becoming roles given. I shall be IT. The poison one seen in me.
Good night and god bless,
Queen Of Disorder,