Grasp the hips of my trachea,
squeeze to soothe my feet,
which toil from the command of totem poles,
and displaced admirations,
and loose leaf accolodes,
I'd rather burn the eyelids of Uncle Sam,
His digit is just a potruded knife,
Chopping me into infinite slices...
...of despair and regret,
Convenient enough...
... for familiar vultures to devour,
defecate, and have me reform,
into a walking piece of shit.....

Only in your Eyes though....

Discreet shackling?!?
You whip me with your promises,
Knowing I was the most fruitful slave,
but I've raped your resources,
in your corporate bedroom,
Sure,
align me with the other overseers,
Who secretly imprison me,
within the bars of their corneas,
deep within the mind's penitentiary,
Because even they too,
have dropped the gavel on my ability,
smashing my limbs to bloody pulps,
to decay in a 6 by 8 cubicle casket.....

Only in your Eyes though.....

I've longed to make you my earthly gods,
but you've introduced Lucifer to me,
impeding my path to rigteousness,

My own blood?!?!?
My own blood.

Opening me from ear to ear,
every damn day,
as if my soul could navigate memory's wave,
to simpler times in the Motherland,

My own blood.
My own blood?!?!?

Fuck your perceptions,
of a walking property,
that depreciates in a half-life pattern,
I have life, but'll perish before Rogaine.....

Only in your Eyes though....

Peace
0nE