words of worship.

Lost in a maddened mirage
where medias market harlots as heroes
and lies are deified.

my perfect woman - a work in regress.

a droid to decadence and dickheadedness
free of finery, faultless of thought
peeved by binary, wontless of wart
learned of the largest lessons
dancing in damnation, dressed in death
furnished with the harshest lesions,
distanced by the deepened, darkened depths
of love.

(oh, & big tits)

matters of matter.

I'd triumph trapped,
in the heartless hole where souls are stole
Let debtors enslave my essence
Die vacant in the ash
of tartar-truth, where stars are strewn
For forcing flight to friends + finance