Head hung, back of the room: reindeer fighting frost;

Hi hated, crash, dumb. Deaf, stupid.

Expatriate to back benches, churning out engineers digging into their noses.
Magnus Opus travels world tours

Be-bop
Top hat,
Skirt down, thighs slap:
Grunt gifts stair cases,
Slabs of meat.
Eyes closed, moot kisses

Let me click your bones,
Carnival heels in bulimic cases,
Powder puff,
Mascara hanging in faint traces,

Black soot, Mall whiz,
Like Monica’s dress in 95
Forever 21 and stained jizz

Pet peeves,
Home alone
Hydraulic rims
Do the drawers,
Varsity jackets,
Drink up, fall in, fuck hard,

Wait.

Spit trust fund.

Never was I..
“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard, are sweeter”
“I heard them all right, but your head was always so far up your ass, I bet you could never tell it from your elbow.”

Stop with that gangsta shit
Fucking-A if you think getting loaded is the end of times, but don’t preach me on it.

The burn unit was ever present in my nightmares.

It’s as if I would imagine myself running, grasping at molotovs just to get back at them.
I wish they could suckle on my nipples just to see how I really taste.

Invitation Only.

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