August 26 2019

[maggot]

Subtle sighs subsidize the highs
The lows stand in line in decline moaning simple one line lines
It's not to late to find what's mine what's LOST my mind, the Mime
In time we stood for the greater good, the gift dead horse
And with a smile and no remorse it ate us, ill fated
I wonder what we taste like, weighted and waiting
Ingest and digest
We can't help avoiding the aberrant wording
It's hurting and keeps scoring (scaring)
Our anomie or enemy
You and me
We.