I am Poision

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I teetor totter with weather I should
Focus on the beauty of linguistics
Or if i should in face be
Blunt
Honest and
Contemporary
I look in the mirror
And I want to break it
I have a hand held hanging on a tack in on my desk
Out of the corner of my eye
I see an abundence of orange
And when i look directly in it
I immeduatly see what i bef peopel too see
Poison
I can see it rolling about
In my big Irish cheeks
I see passion in my flared nostrils
And bunblinking eyes with pupils like voids
They, yes they,
Don't see what i see or
Why i see the way i do
I know I'm hard to understnad
I have a hell of a time with it myself.





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