The audience roars in approval. Lets let the silence sink in. Something a little bit more humble. If you can stay I wont fight. Its going to take all you are. A thankless trying task. But baby you've got status. It finds a home in my headache. Fill her up, bartender. So my body makes her more than home. "Would you like to come inside?" How elegant they choke when there's a bone stuck in our throat. These are the words that breed eating disorders. The traces of a struggle leave a crude smile in the sand. Swat the fly's from fathers leftovers and call forensics to the loft. This ones going to take a while since there's such lust for this sunken ship. And like always, I'm silent in my victory.
A Dead Letter Promise
