instant karma

speaking
writing in code
pressing my tongue
to the ridged roof
of my mouth as i strain
waiting for that
one perfect word to
roll on out
i don't pick up roget
when i'm here
so its never pretty
and oh so limited
but we both know what
it means when
i say

passion me baby

a just muse who's
starting little fires
all over...little pyro
lovin' the heat
heating me up and
putting me out with
gasoline

my passion burns like
a mountain of tires
it just goes on
for weeks
months even
making clouds of black smoke
that i choke
myself on.

but he likes a slow burn
a constant glow that grows
with every shot of O
the black smoke
and black blood
i'll suck right up without
a worry
i had this disease
before you were born, baby
you just might be my
anti-venom
my comfort niche
not some notch
on my 17.5 viewable