The choices that we make lead to mistake after mistake.
Sever their heads, they're off to bed.
The intake that we devour is considered much too sour.
Dissect their brains, too little too late.
Debauchery is my kryptonite.
Decadence envelopes me in a repugnant array of self-decomposition mechanisms
contrived with assistance of affliction and animosity not yet known to man-kind.
Conform with the regularities of inferior, naive media-inhaling hypocrites?
I think not.
Feeble-minded fools belong to the dust of my words.
Disposition is my cup of tea, as they'd say.
Sorry.
I find it accomodating to delude you.
My purposefully misinterpreted acts of friendship were perverse.
I am clever enough to discern the meaning behind your approval.
You enjoyed my company,
As I enjoyed yours.
And thus we are entwined.
Let the cataclysm begin.
Sweet dreamers say goodnight to sweet dreaming,
but for a second they whisper hello to slow breathing.
