I awake from my dream with a distant memory of her scream. Why does she leave me in the state of being lost in this place filled with disgrace? Who am I and why can't I die? Where all her promises was it all a lie? When the end is near, then it will be clear as I awake from my dream with a distant memory of her scream. You are my everything and nothing, my becoming and unwinding, splintering self into pricks or real, haunting and terrifying me from over there, meaning to return your looks of chaos and lustful voluptuousness. Caught between pagan and reals and crucified crests, you are all the lies I need to deny. Tilgum rosy red lips cursed thighs. I am high, but totally objective. On point buried moss silk, noose, nug to the bone. Leave this projected desire for myself to contemplate. Source cold 0666 natural, unreal pretentious whore of babelon, babbling anon and anon.