Is it thirteen? Is it number ten? 1971. When life had just begun. Is it my brother? Born in '79. My two-year daughter, or the one I left behind. They lie and smile insist. Better place wanted. I can feel your eyes, burning, in my mind. Expire. Dead. Running. Pulling. Plugging. Doing. Chastity. I promise not. In figure. Naked. Sweating. Bleeding. All forsaken. Promise. Nothing. Nothing. The ramblings of a madman. Poison. Words. Naked. Sweating. Nothing. Nothing. Poison. Nothing. They pull you out it's very intimate. To think they even make the time. All is not to be forgotten.
