Loading...

dr. frankenstien needs a mob and a hug.

I lose myself, as you orbit us in anger,
I choose myself as you map the only course for the danger.
hollowness, could never feel so glad, define sanity by the limits of the mad.
if I escape away, would it make you miss what you had?
stuff me in a box with freakish experiments and we’re gonna feel so bad.
heartache is the limit and pattern of how the heart breaks,
turn you inside and out in the motion of a hurricane.
the underground lies exposed, everyone deliberates what is fake,
guts turned out, we never explain, what you got left is at stake.
it’s had to describe flowers full in bloom connected to hate,
lost in the points of a line and the hours that makes a baby have no trace.
we will all be doomed in mush mouth decisiveness, and how pretty it looks on our plate.
even if you have a receipt, your bound to consume just what it is you objectively create.

Other works by Preston Standuptington...



Top