I have murderous impulses,
often I fantasize about mass killing,
sometimes I wonder what it would sound like
when the blunt end of a hammer
connects with somebody's temple,
how it would feel,
is it all real?
what's the deal?
a window to my soul is ajar,
but you only see geraniums,
a window to your soul is open,
I see daffodils...I smell them too,
what can you do?
what can you do for me?
can you help me to see?
why won't the demons just let me be?
beyond the reach is water-less beach,
do you see what I'm trying to teach?
awkward handshakes priced at one dollar each,
the slightest pause in a motivational speech,
beyond the palm trees
beyond the jungle
beyond the plains from which you begin,
it's there...it's there under your skin.
Suck this drunk alcohol dick.