《F.T.Willz poems (prolly frank iero no one knows)》•*no title grrr*•
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(welcome to the common trend, where newcomers are loathe to tread, the copycats and copies carbon frolicked as the bled) this is a stream of consciousness, a watercolor of vomit green and bile yellow, if you will, medievally planned and clumsily executed. rolling down the stairs like the bewigged head of a sadist monarch, a butterfly of a queen. a rainbow of lust and greed lives within a bruise, the secret and private ruse that so many carefully shed; sticking the ends of their fingernails underneath the liquid latex visages that the work knew so well, hidden beneath lies another layer of pint and capillaries. peel back careful and slow, so it doesn't stick to the hairline. you lost everything when you watched the sun implode and extinguish into a pool of unknown light, so bright white and blinding that it just about seared the eyeballs out of your face. squeamish sliming vermin was its name, and so it came creeping and crawling while they all tried to stomp it dead dead dead with their jackbooted feet. i know because i was there. and now my feet grow cold and icy in the draft, yet there are no socks to be found. for its cold as hell here in hell, not fiery but icy, and so very cold and dark. storm clouds are here storms so full of bright night stars crackling lightening bolts of angsty bullshit that the world probably doesn't need. rolling thunder strikes first, the grumble of complaints and angry pit bulls, streaming and running and screaming. try and wash it clean, but you know you never will. time stains everything like blood stains skin and coffee stains white table clothes. everything appears so great and so grand so bright and shiny and new, but half the time it never really is. words slither away like wet stones clatter out of the beaks of curious chickens. imagine a tyrannosaurus rex attempting to pick up a fork and knife, tearing into its food with such fiendish instruments like a civilized brute, like all the civilized brutes do. that is what the world is. tears need not be mentioned, the damned leaking of saltwater. humanity saw its end the moment we realized that there would be one.
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sequel to 'hot stuff' :)you may be thousands of miles away, but you're still the first thing on my mindwavyyrichie © 2018
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To all the people reading this book thank you guy for the support, if you can relate to my story just know you are not alone, in time to come someone or something will always be there for you like my phone who is always here for me.
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