Delusion
I am deluded in my eye about my own importance
There is never any doubt that what eye want must come first before the others of my dubious worth the others of my kind my peers they peer down noses made of swine lined foreskins using beer and wine soaked minds and sucking nicotine and sexes wishing only for the many colored hues of drugs to make them happy using soma while the killing never stops until the ardent joker magnifies the key to the city of the corn trodden ox.
The near misses of the killers make me cringe as my desire herself is off to collages. One man gun hand in a tower made of paper can instantaneously make many students reappear with angel wings on them. I do not want that to happen to my daughter she is made of Renoir paintings and much love and many flowers.
Society killers are just made of glass and clear delusion.
