Life hit me in the chest, and I can’t breathe, neither can I cry. I sit in the train station watching passersby, and in my smiles and laughter I ly. Sprinkle glycerin in my eye, pseudo tears. Poked a dildo in the wet juicy hole, no satisfaction still. I shiver in the night, my muscle burn with lactic acid. It’s like when you left you pressed pause on my motion, still waiting for you to press play.

Life him me in the chest and I can’t breathe, neither can I cry.
Sit in mental institutes sound raping my larynx with screams. Satan lifting his footing crushing my dreams. In my mind I am famous, I am great but in reality I brown body writhes will they stick needles in my veins to keep me calm. You see it is the calmness that is killin me.

Either you or life hit me in the chest, can’t breathe neither can I cry. You silence jumps into bed with lipstick on his collar, unzips his pants and fucks me in the night. I awake sore brained, and angry. Angry because I am hurting and no one knows or cares or because I can’t cry and I can’t fuck, I can’t feel. I can’t, I can’t. I think what hurts the most is I can’t move or dance because you utterly rule me.

When the pen hits the paper, I ink !

I am a Glutton on America filling myself with worthless things.