(sorry joe - i robbed the opening line off you, but you know, you're not famous yet, and probably never will be, so i guess i don't have to pay you royalties or anything...)
into you i pour all of my best lies.
my self, my sin, my soul.
writing and wronging
and wasting away, like,
oooh, trash can, you are my best friend
and only confidant!
the ink sticks and stains.
the page sips and drains.
it's engraved in paper:
a resignation to be perpetually burnt
in fire, and drowned in ink.
then i read it in the tabloids,
and i wipe my ass with it,
and i inhale it.
i'm smoking a fag and i'm fucking breathing:
BLEACH.
on a roll in the loo,
when i'm mopping the floor,
in a perfectly white, pristine envelope,
like resurrected virginity,
fresh with the fragrance of Daz.
PS. i'm posting the big businesses of bleach letters coz they like my type of character. the type that drowns themselves in reams and reams.
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