Fluid, Built from Love by Alan Ayazyam - HTML preview
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Dark Widows' Clothes
Dark Widows' Clothes
Stained with alcohol, or bleach
Laying out in the sun to dry
Whose panties or bra hang on the lie, drying in the sun?
Is this The One?
Are you prepared to realize
You aren't qualified to decide?
How weird, how strange
Loss of Control, the animal's nightmare
The fucker's dream
The fucker's dream: a human being
A laugh: teehee
And slow, white cream
Bursting out with dark exception
In relief, realizing
We chose this
The future is us