That little word
Desperation? Unknown. Do we, who be shooting stars confounding reason... do we, in our embittered march toward the "center of the maze'... Do we, with our painted lips and perfumed tails a'swish in longing... do we, whose dreams of fucking in the rain pay hearty tax to each day's pain, in dewy promise which you'll maim ... Do we just defeat ourselves? Does dusty drawings on this shelf, those cries for help we've made in stealth, the way you did not get the wealth of affection paid with health... Defeating all my Wiles with a damned disease, I am become a junky, dis, a disease, distancing, disastrous habits copied, why, it's seemingly meant to say bye... Does defeat live in my eyes?