Self

Who is ever listening gets to listen.
oh poor me, the cross eyed gargoyle that I be.
With the crowd shot shut.
I wrote for a blind crowd.
Whores, Jews and scumbags.
All of the above pick the worst in between.
I erase the place I was and more so yourselves.
I recited to a deaf people, useless makeup.
Nothing heals like boredom and meaningless dances in the dark.
I am full of filth and have an urge to rhyme.
Its so humid in here, windows closed.
Beat me and bear with me.
I am truly lost and have no theory left as to why or where.
The if't and the but, neither help or make sense.
I am sick or more ways than none.
Help me control myself again.
You have left me to wither like a leaf in the sun.
Change.
Despair.

Dru