Sometimes I think in a foreign language.. On a tangent I roll..
Id like to think I am tough stuff, but mostly lately I am little and crazy..
I remember when words came so easy, and so fine tuned.
I knew what I felts..
I knew how to tell you..
now, there is just this space.. howd it get so intricate?
We spout angry words and lie in the bold faced-
Maybe before there was moral, or standard.. Something keeping the beast at bay?
But its feeding time honey.. They smell me on you..
I leave you with this quote:
"My organs are rotting
My enemies are plotting
I am made of pages
Paragraphs and inspirations
Paper girl, burn the world
I pass the flame to you
Murder, mayhem, hurt her, hate him-
Murder, mayhem, fuck her, slay them"
Otep Nein