All of my horrors,
All of my stories
Are left with sadness,
Are left with glories,
And everything else
That stands in between
Has never seen
The horrors I’ve seen.
And all of the sadness,
And all of the glories,
Have touched all I had
With one single story
Of hate and disgust,
Of silenced regret,
Of everything else
I still haven’t met.


those stories we tell
until we bleed
from all of the smell
the sorrows beneath
are hiding inside
those bodies of mine
are nothing to fear
and nothing to hide
beside my own star.
oh, it is so far!
my legs are all worn,
my insides are torn
from all of those feelings
inside of the ceilings
that hide my true form
inside of the storm
that lives in your body.
oh, no, you’re not a nobody.
the cries and the deeps
inside of the steeps
make me forget
the day and the step.
but life’s just a dream,
my blood is a stream
of happy and joy,
of tool and of toy,
of smiling nobody
on top of my body.
my tongue likes to like your world whole.
you beautiful, arrogant, selfish asshole.