`
Words, strung together; Your lovely and smart shall we talk?
Walk, someone believes it. somebodys seen it....
and so here we are, while you tug on my wrist, its not far.
We will sit. Pick a drink. I do art, you must say what you think.
But i cant have you inside my skin
I hope that you can understand.
Im tired of feeling like a lump of clay.
moulded by their horney hands.
Laughs.
"i'm not that sort of guy"
hes nice, says im sweet..wouldn't lie.
and so here i am, in pain and saliva, wrists clamped. he's adjusting, now's my shot. Twist around try to crawl,grab my smalls, get him off..Didn't work.
Kick. not enough: go on struggle im strong and your not.
Scream. No-one will hear it, or even believe it.
and so here i am, tugging a door, which was locked by the same hands
that crawled around my skin, pressed my bones to the bed, spread my legs
thrusted in
Shakes,
"please dont tell the cops" he whines
"i wont, just let me go"...gotta lie
There's scraps of necklace on your floor
hope you like the sovenier.
A sickeness of pity, Plague of thoughts
Hope oneday i'll shed much more than tears
And so this is me, not as smart as i'd of liked to believe....
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