Piss on the prospects of dream's thoughts denied.
I've no time to dwell.
I've no want to feel.
Puking this childish crush stuck to insides.
Not false and not real.
A should be explosion clumsily fell.
What whimpering waste.
a sonnet still birth
Manslaughter of a promised spring time spell
A sediment story buried in earth
Addicted from just the tiniest taste.
I crave an off switch.
Binding the beats for emotional chaste.
Perhaps then I'm free.