Ask for my story.

I’ll hand it in a casket

and you’ll take it to the grave;

Or even a pawn shop,

where you’ll make a living

out of my porcelain words.

But first, let me wrap it up in a

carmine cast of my withered

brain, forget

the bow, I’ll lace it with vervain.

I’m caustic to the bone,

a wind up doll

ready to explode.

Baby you’re a quick

fuck but I’m a bucking bronco,

and I’ll bang you back home.

You’re lamenting on the endings,

but here we are again,

waiting for that final bong to

blow me out a tick tock tune like-

will you light my final spliff, friend?

I’m the sucker punch to the gut,

the crack in the nuts,

and best of all I can never be snuffed.

So when I can be assed to

break with a laugh

(hahaha oh how i’ll laugh)

remember this: I’m part of history

in a wonderland world of ignominy

and regret, but i’m sure to beset

the minds of the millions in years to come

and then who will have won, when my memory

remains and the disdain is sustained?



*Well done 2016*






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