Friday, July 10, 2009

Called, disolved, not an one to be dismayed. That king went pop with pills in his head, money, frills, dead. That king went dead, slow suicide paper red. Today, away yesterday's freak, how now holy speak. That king went pop in public space, no more that face. Changing asthetic life that puked on top. Wretched on top. Molested sainity beyond extreme, never to dream land. No more dead ever land, Peter pan is sick. Children to bed fairy-tales are twisted, media insisted. Alone seperated individual are our rights. Vomitous nights. Queer sickly fights. Is this what left the den of theives to shame on? No more gate beautiful to lame on? Just porceline plastic and salesmen sheets. None left retreats, Play boy, play and get your game on. Into this scene let heaven stare. Aware. Alive, awake, sovergn, controlling. Will it to be your son in fullness be applied, this world's air ruler denied. Peace on earth.

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