Dear Brother:

Current mood: contemplative
Knife to my head, gun to my heart. Everything is switched.
Just push harder and pull the trigger.
The pain will cease when you drop my weapons
& face the fact that you almost cant trust me.
No one can trust me.
Not even my twitching finger can trust me with blanks
And a butter knife.
Thoughtless and punctual
Guard down, fists up, Showing off cheap shots
Is it fair game that you made false concern?
Hints were unsighted and blended
Deceitful confidant, No need to distress
It all will be over soon
Losing what your not expecting to be missed
Single contingency absent until you crucify my unwanted
giving but nothing recieved became annoyance
My confidant lost sleep, reason not being my own
Content with the outcome


"you think I'm Fat Huh?"

Gimme just one hint.
Is it my uneven lips
Or is the height intimidating
Acting sedated to the situation placed in front of me
Yet to far away in the distance to not be seen
Medication. Repetitive seconds within a mono tone beat
She stares until blurry vision
This reflection became a know it all
Deformed to favorites
Distressed call for backup
Passing chances mia polo
This aged subsist is scarring
Departing from distraction of ignorance

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