The consistent underlying silence they posses tends to vividly reveal their desperate, crippling fear of judgement.

Unholy mortals, wandering forever tormented, within my tainted divine.

Take unto hollow faces;

Break these whirlpool lies into unheard, everlasting cries. But not that of a dimly lit foolish endeavor, horridly explained with your destroyed attempted tries. If majestical wonder did not riddle my veins into this endless stupor, I would dream for nothing more than all of my tainted marvels to delicately… die.

Nighty tighty;

Good night, child of the thunder. Farewell, Grand Daddy of my west. Tootles, Papi of the ocean. So long, Auntie in my wicked depths. Tata for now, infant caressing The Old Uncle Bob. Deep, pulsating sensations overwhelm those who hide on my inside. Do not silence this tantalizing phantom, throbbing to tear internal voids into cascading touch, soaked in endless lust.

Endless;

I cry. I weep. I deep. I secrete. Anal seepage flows endlessly from my gaping orfice. My warm seepage trickles down my legs into the waiting mouth begging for my sweet discharge pouring out my deep anal bowel cavity. Crusty and sore no more will your lips be once my seepage touches thee.

Nonsense;

Tantalizng every nerve ending, admist thy overwhelming pleasure. Soaked in lust. Suffocated by sin.

Caressing the delicate sphincter. Drinking its warm, comforting, child-essence seepage. Cascading down thy yearning phalanges.

Gone;

I feel the intensity of these emotions, but am at a terrible loss to put them into language. Moments of shattered times collide while cascading down into endless depths of my tainted crimson demise. Tearing apart before giving breath to what was once felt as…

Derange;

All I want is to instantly fall victim to slumber within le next five minutes. Wake up. Go downstairs. And make Hazelnut Drunkin Dosluts Coffee. IS THT TOO MUCH TO ASK? Save me before I can no longer save my self. Give me sanity before I am left endlessly wandering in the lost depths of deranged insanity. Stimulate me before I become a decrepit, hollow body. With no one to call my lonely orfice a home.

Toy;

Such a fragile toy, whom knows nothing at all. Yet all whimsical matter leaks effortlessly throughout your feeble veins. Longing for any sense of meaning which you know not any tangible memory. My chambers grow weary from utter lack of stimulation pertaining to interest in merely the slightest degree. Forever wandering, finding all and holding nothing.

Defile;

Sink further down into my endless weeping cavities with me once more. Dance among all fallen happenings, ceasing to be corrected. A riddle does such an intricate decrepit embrace, forever entwining, genuine and our fate, which cannot be crippled. You no longer marvel this torn apart heart, bleeding out everlasting fantasies never to become reality. True horror, in its most pure figure. Drained has been the only affect ever brought upon by your disfigured presence, masked by false entitlement. Your most pure figure; nothing but a mere clown will you always remain…

Dismember;

Sanity seeps slowly out of my being. A feather will I become in such short time. Clicking across my skull I wish you to disintegrate from my world, evermore. Flames should burn your putrid excuse for a mind. Appreciation is one among many matters you will never comprehend. Never have I wanted to stoop to a level low such as yours. Although feeble quarrels appear to solely be that which you are seemingly capable of understanding. Care do I not nearly enough to convey to you all the happenings I’ve pursued, due to your constant fails at merely satisfying my being. Oh how does the most miniscule part of my foolish self, wish for you to see every dark hour whilst not in your presence which I drowned my self in a lust more real than you ever gave me. Worth is something you will never attain in my eyes…

Fragment;

I will cease to breathe if never do I allow myself a life to live. Trapped will I eternally remain evermore. Smothered in decrepit lies I hold dearly to be true. A fatal reality which has never existed. Beauty draws from death. Endless cries seemingly invisible against this blood saturated river drying out from a crippled mask disguised as love.