Sin in Ink

I adore my finer disposition

like an ink pen that's at loss for things to write

making false toys with surgical precision

camouflage, i like hiding darkness from the night

going to fucking crazy via the scenic route

a new spring neck to break

i love the things that need no excuse

best of friends for the enemy's sake



I would make a wish upon a rotten star

look at how so in love you are



i adore my lack of explanation

itching, scratching at what can not exist

bending concrete, the actual figmentation

lady lucky fuck you first, i insist

too close for convenience, i'll get what i deserve

they would never lie to the severed heads of household 

i'll keep just under dental skin, splinters of reserve

finding that i already know without being told

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