If life was like your sexual fantasies
You’d be one fucked up sadistic man
Your soul would rot.
Turn black like the tar on her street
Or the mascara running down her face.
Crying about missed opportunities
The college art class she failed
You hear but only listen to
the parts that remind you
How easy she’ll be.

all your loved ones would be five dollar skanks
Cheap trills and quick tricks
seem to just be a currency
exchanged at the time of an event
While the final payoff never sees the light of day
Sacredness, time, experiences,
Love. Just dust and blood.


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