Veal

Empty shells walk the earth, in them,

Is so much void, so much loneliness, so much bitterness,

Untested hands, so many untested hands,

So they can’t even think it, the void that composes them,

Stolen story; please report.

They can’t even yearn, to fill it,

Just a stagnant, empty hole, in limbo,

Would it feel better, if I murdered you?

But you'll die, that's terrible right?

Would it, be better, to die, and find out, there's a next life,

Or would it, be better, to walk, the living dead on earth,

Who knows, maybe love will save you,

Mary is always looking for slaves.

Little Johnny

Like signing your own death warrant, to be the enemy of art,

Its like saying love is worth nothing,

Like saying I am god and the universe is my mind,

But why rebuke a turd.