Goodbye to his starving concrete male lows.
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Resign all need for bargaining with an open door to a closet full of all the things he wrote as a kid,
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i cant believe what he did.
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Whole arachnid-eyed spinnerets form: the motive slips,
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the bugs become the end, they eat you.
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Glued by the palms to a dinner plate passive meat.
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Shrewd likeness arms him like a runaway,
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rampant glories nothing short of a forced drum drama vibed wished goodbye.
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The knot that never come united leaves feelings i know someone else has lied.
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About who you are and what you know.
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The whitest lies are blinding snows, eyed in the mockery of his prey.
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Fevered company with an array of wretched looking sister faces,
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breathing the air of scare and tyranny.
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He hunched right over, for me to use his back
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and write out the eviction notice from my heart; no remorse,
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the "i's" were dotted with poignant stabs.
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All the things i wrote as a kid, i cant beleive what it did to you.
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Low and behold the end of our rope is a noose.
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I chased him right back into enternal peace and sealed that closed door.
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-----------------
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The End Of Our Rope Is A Noose
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| Cave-In |
