Peter-out, you, peter-out.
Your relentless rain-tirade
Cripples me, and I am soaked
My prison of misery, you cannot wash away.
Eyes peeled-open, eroded, gaping holes
Watch the shimmering tide of bullets
Pierce through her soul, their brains.
Watch them stripped, boiling souls
Reduced, ah look down upon them!
Devoid of their dreams and scrubbed
Pure, finally, in your condemning eyes.
Come! It is Your spectacle,
Watch it explode, and
Careen out of proportions.
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2 comments:
Give him a break.
"Destruction is a form of creation.
The fact that they burned the money is ironic. They just wanted to see what happens when they tear the world apart." - Donnie Darko
How about cutting her a break? Ha. No qaurter.
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