Another One Bites The Dust
You always sort of took to me,
Like a blood transfusion gone awry.
Like soupy ice-cream on a hot day.
Like a broken heel or nail or heart.
Like a tiny beetle floating dead on the surface of my pool.
Like your hypocritical, condescending, miraculously fake tattoo.
Like you. Just fake and fucking full of shit.
Not smiles and smokes.
Just shit and smokes.
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