Die Party

Die Party

with time by-passing on its put it in your mouth kissing
i lie stretched before a sundial bench, hour glass hissing
a child whom's aged 15th century established in front
barely beating the air that arises the after life's song

LET JESUS FUCK YOU
*sqwuish, sqwish
let, let..j es us FucKyou..

a starlet of scarlet flavored cherry moon without touchyou
i birthed from a spontaneous mutation - the werewolf of Milan

LiL 'ol me and my lil old song
..
my name is
Collette Wong
..


My cotton panties leave themselve's below the carnival this midnight
Past the rosemary scents and driftwood cloud's of would if could, could sit tight
Contaminated by other's glassey pale one eye's glare
and stale plate like hearing, taking away even from faint, taint aware
I pulse like a mausoleum strummed of corn harvested in spring
turned violet vibrant sting like slashed guitar string violin's
dusting rusted rafters and cabins of stainless nail breathless
still feeling swollen mirrored, a gland merely expanding defenseless
Yet i'm only minor in the world between immortal and mortal
with a little red of little red and much is in disorder
I clasp and i a gasp with the culprit left right by my side
though the centerpiece of supply attention by lesson is TO DIE

well so i have been,
i will not bow to any man, THEN/NOW..
My presence is and was too prestigious just to lay it all out
My genetic defects complement the shadow's as i hold in a sneeze
and bleed behind the mind's, of what there is you might possibly eat
in years to come when you sieze each frame of grain and ponder
there will be none left in my diseased history i wandered
i shall not let a matter sighting kill me,
nor my own demise........

i will - will my i to fulfill this devilish design supplied
past the wheat fibers from a saw mill amongst a valley of upon
if growth is unaccepted then they're wrong

i clasp bone and shades of grey just to balance my so soon attempt
then position the light to singe follicles from out their irrelevant flesh
burn their remains the same they paved so no thread of hair is left...
burn their names and mine in a grave of my own miscontent..
feast on the pride of what i felt hollow inside, and howl
howl like the winds were going to take me anyway of a soul

they cram and they clatter
they murmur and they mutter to exceed..
YET the fact the cough i cannot prevent inside of me.......
was not mine
but their's in all it's sudden sickly glory

t'hey never could see before this alas - or - before the tree's
As Scarlet Fever in mass was a feat for FEAST the eye's to see