i am a carcass.
animals
in human skin
revealing only killers eyes...
by the time you notice
you're not shaking a human hand,
it
is
too
late.
devouring.
perfect machines
never reminiscing,
romanticizing.
feeding
sleeping
feeding
fat stomachs from
trapping their prey--
dangling savory dreams
of
perfect,
unconditional,
affection.
your words are as empty as that gun you're pointing at me.
Monday, March 27, 2006
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home