someone just walked across my grave maybe they poured a libation on my stone maybe they just
stamped the dirt down I have to manage my infestation perhaps I need to
up my dose I hear blades being sharpened did they find me? how
did they find me? plots are being hatched that will never
reach fruition these are the conspirators
of an idiot nation familiar monsters with blood in their
eyes
it’s unwise to get foolish at this stage of play but I have big
feet and clumsy ambitions all my mirrors vacillate between
repulsion and adoration there’s little there that’s of comfort to me so I avert my
eyes when I
get low I
get high all I seek is equilibrium a place to lay my head and some
respite from the monsters
but it’s not the
monsters that offend me it’s the people who make them the monsters aren’t so scary
if you speak the lingo but their masters
possess a murderous reflex and sharp teeth
they have shark like ferocity and no feelings
at all
