"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space


With wish to proliferate enmity
In me, is
The gist,
Simply assembled
Around what I have
That you have not got
From my peaking serenity
Seeing your quickening rot.
My black bishop and rook
Constantly checking your ideal tranquility,
In a consistently mincing
Mental ward, resisting
Locked in yet fully loaded für verbal
-Tuesday, February 24, 2009

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