Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
The Nihilarian
I acquiesced,
My options limited
In the fen of my mind.
Atrabilious,
Rotten hands that touch,
The copacetic feel
Of a razorblade.
How I wish to be
The nihilarian,
Sorting through the muck.
Scars so selcouth,
Beautiful and ugly,
I exude the truth.
For no good reason,
Nothing is done.
7-11-11
My options limited
In the fen of my mind.
Atrabilious,
Rotten hands that touch,
The copacetic feel
Of a razorblade.
How I wish to be
The nihilarian,
Sorting through the muck.
Scars so selcouth,
Beautiful and ugly,
I exude the truth.
For no good reason,
Nothing is done.
7-11-11
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The Nihilarian
The Nihilarian