A 2 Minute Lecture On The Finer Points Of Instability
The Sawtooth Grin
No flowers for you til you put the knife away your prescence is smiling with icy veins seizuring these are the lacerations like falling leaves and sour notes of infatuation compiling the sovereign erosion of my naked ears in your tranquility a coffin for me to decay in a sellable cremation youre the killer, my little star, tell me how