Miser of the Human Condition - The Oval Portrait

Absolutley

A designated driver

Dying beautiful

In the fire

Absolutley.there's a designated driver.

she's dying so beautifully,

in the fires

C R A S H

.and it shows.

through clouded white lines

That are eventually snorted up your nose

There’s twelve pounds of me, disolved into air

Then there’s twelve pounds of me, that doesn’t even care

I won’t be crucified for things that i now find mortifying

So, just keep twirling your brown to black hair, a secret sign showing you’re

not there

You’re not really there