Still have my innocence. You may have stolen my love.. But I rebuilt. A plague on your soul. A life lived in suffering. I alone awoke and will find the others…

Still have my innocence. You may have stolen my love.. But I rebuilt. A plague on your soul. A life lived in suffering. I alone awoke and will find the others…

Here was the sitting place the medium shit of stasis with fret

Bungalow under sweat,

Hidden down mediums painted in wet

Oil—my toil?

To disarm you one by one and then farm you out to get fat,

Then devour you, like beef. Mental fuck--- reality thief,

Grey shades form natural contours of feeling,

You were the clown I saw up on the ceiling?

I was saying grace at the time for the meal at my fingertips.

Yeh that was you clown, I remember the feeling

You inspired me…

GO to Vegas get married and run all the way to L.A

How original same as your last wife but hey,

That’s how you roll,

With a hamburger soul.

And a tongue that can loll,

Nah bullshit--- you have no loll,

Just hate—and then a triplicate need for control,

Seen you the other day,

What could I say?

You looked fat from afar

But still old Mr Gray,

With your last living chance,

Waxed in tight leather pants,

You looked funny and penniless

Eaten by readiness.

To attack,

With this growth on your back,

It started as a chip on your shoulder but how you lack

Love for your Daughter you murderous slut,

You stole your mates girlfriend and then--- but but but!

We love each other,

You couldn’t get close to such a thing.

Fashion victim opportune slag self made King,

I told you this then but then had to go Ring jumping,

See me out far on the coast past the Bar

There’ll be more of me when we go you monstar…

 

 

Chris Canham 

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