~ PUNCTURE-WOMB ~ Creating pretty holes and lovely h… Making spaces for stained~glass pa… Now sunlit, with vistas of red, so… —My Womb with a view.
I can burn a page or two, forget a name with the thought of… Ignore the need, the pleas, but this thing I cannot do. I want to bring it to you,
Drive the dirtied splinter. Lay it straight; direct, and deep into her face. No ending.
Breathe with the streets, the dark… A real life night crawling creep. In the fresh hair, you find me the… and more... planning out my killing floor.
Here comes the beggar! With an Eden to share? My god whats the point!? When the commonality is despair? I know there is a reckoning to com…
The look of shame, stress; Hunger and fear, I resist the urge to free a tear. All I’ve preyed, caged; Gathered and spilled...
Stray from tender infusion, 'cause docile doesn’t work. Embrace the fasting revolution, and prowl, where gluttony lurks. Survival of the fittest,
My memory bank leaves me filthy ri… even in that often thought of ditc… Loved ones so terrified of the sid… imagine me all dirty, choked, and… My tender
When I gather up the last count of my own scattered teeth. past present ovation for the failure of some cosmic sheath. of softened rain promised or the discord of confusions tone the mo...
Have you seen it? Did you trust in it? A road to take me Home, free this… I’ve been in the holes left behind… Her eyes I shut now in the intere…
Wrecking Ball Breaking Something Testing Me Forget; Forget Hollow Spirit Lie For Your Blood Obsessing
Wait a second... Are you saying the cock rose three…
Anna Sleaze is diseased. Like Typhoid Mary, and fucked with ease. Always with a “Please!” And a “MORE, MORE!, MORE!!”
Dry is the thread, brittle and frayed. Now the stitching will not hold. Through dusty road and whistling trees, I traveled into the grit rich pitch. It would seem to be for nothing....
I turn out my Flesh, To turn on my Spirit; The needs that come and go. A Turnstile counting; She’ll know it when she feels it,