Your hands are a slow, deliberate scriptsnowing cold glass frozen in marroweach syllable, a fucking shardwhere my lips have beencarved into your flesh—up to my toesiesthe cunt has worn Into a hollow, seeping starepulsing for sharp kisses in the airyou...

  I want them, I need them, I gotta have ‘em I covet timepieces like I’m building a shrine My collection is growing and yet I want more Everyday I look for new and classic designs   I’m entranced by their automatic movements The gears mark...

lick the madness and taste the bedlamsanitoriam green speaks the truth of the placehaunted rebellion when I dare not to behavefour point restraints left in a padded cellmy crime speaking to spiritsthe powers that be plug in like electicity...