We're both drowningin our rotten shells.I look to you for comfort,but your hand is already pushing my head down.

Fetch him breakfast.Fetch him coffee.Fetch his sheets for his bed.Fetch him lunch.Fetch his drink.Fetch the ax to cut his head.Fetch him dinner.Fetch him tea.Fetch the mop but watch him bleed.

They danced underneaththe lampposts at night,when they were bored.And when the sun rose,they tormented wanderingsouls.

The hate inside you reeksand you're forced to vomit black blood.It's unnatural.Your brain is full of tumors,unknown to you.Or maybe, you knowand just don't care.