i luv my dead ghey life
the chief of grief
sultan of strife
pope of mope
wet willyed, earloped
quilted in guilt
to wallow or let wilt
blowing everything we've built
i tainted my nape
scattered ashes on the cape
baby blankets drooled n draped
smoked and cured
baited and lured
i'll never be assured
that our future will be realized
slumped, still, trying to metabolize
just gunna move into the movie theatre
gummy seats, a bottom feeder
with baby girl tied up on the parking meter
