
One hundred Lonely Years


∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆




One hundred lo lee years
is a trusted risk
diminished too quick
teasing taste of bliss


Bless I am on finger spawn
Electric trenches bathing my cervical
Back and fold I’m a circus; locomotive
Freedom brings Casanova, baby mothers, and virgin wings
Spirals of the world most foul
Dancing wolves who often howl
Woman body don’t give a fuck about that shit
Young self holds the messenger
Hidden burdens are turned to birds and
We learn to hold our sticks and stones and
We fold to break our own arms leading the way to pave
Make ends meet with woman’s meat
What a dog that eats dog girls
Woman’s bodies don’t give a fuck about rocking a foreign world
Key whispers from chosen Gods in dress
Offers ballads every hour.
Rid of it all
Hitchhiking springs guided through the exhale of stalling hurricanes
Inhaling life, exhaling blight and begs it awakens thee
Are we parasite or harmony
My stomach is full of grapefruit seeds.
I think they might even like me.
I just know they’ll love that acid burn as much as I do.
They’d be a fool not to.