I want to impress
the invisible stinking
nowhereness of life,
Balanced outside
near a lamppost
with icy disposition,
I want to depress
myself with nothing,
or glare into the very
eyes of the words,
Make sure they know,
why I use their faulty purity,
Hence why there are always
nails out,
Oh! don't say that, say this...
Say what?
Ah! nothing!
Explain yourself with rose thorns,
Drip blood!
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