You choke upon the apron strings of miss cleaver and
wish you could have a piece of blue-laced sky on a plate
tasting the battery acid of your generation you wish to
die
it’s all for the praise of a god you dropped to the floor
all for the reasons you gave up for wishing you had taken
the gold plated door into your oblivion of consumer
products like a societal whore who begs for more
:: 11-02-2014 ::
DIGITAL DISSONANCE
BROKEN video
Instagram friend
Twitter fiend
Bring to me
Flesh and bone
Tag this — fuck you
Like me — diss you
Scream forget you
Lick my like bitch
Plastic hopes
Drop the soap
Really now…
Don’t you know
Forget me now
Photo dope
Living shallow
Hello? Hello? Hello?
Hollow…hollow…Hello?
:::::
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