Artistic pastels scream, SUPPLY!
Look into my minds eye,
see that "You" are not "I."
Launch the raft to navigate, not to laugh.
Death lurks at your door,
asking, "Are you a pick-up? or a Horror?"
Draw the line.
The long in time wait still to feel the fill.
The Grave may not be served "On the Rocks."
But, chill it does, the Glacier talks.
"Holding all in cellular tar,"
I blackened myself to match that bar.
Left not flight.
I did not loose sight, I mean,
why fight, when you might just be right?
Spare the tears,
the wet eyes of years,
the lies that you wear,
they make me swear!!
GOD DAMN, just stand.
I am not a Man.
I have been on the lamb!!
Not the rack, rather a track.
Leaving signs of all that you lack.
Get out; Don't shout.
My head, it hurts all about.
Stop your blare, my brain is in there.
Sever yourself from the Sins of When?
You just stood and said, "I didn't know then."
I'll get up and then throw-up,
sicken myself to know it is a set-up,
for who? YOU.
Oh well, it must have been the letter.
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