to the bewildred revalutionary

and sad sadistic poet

who I used to love

when once I thought He was a dream

and when he would apear as thoughts

and smile’s would dance around my head 

now thorns grow in my throat

from the root of my heart

from his black well

and collection of nightmares

of his pathetic failure’s

not a beautifull angel

but a withering

gypsy curse

I had you hold my greatest affection

for six months

and my diomond turned

to coal

you said it was stolen

but we both know

that the thiefs

only took the truth

when you have snorted

and sniffed your existence

i think of the justice

of you being

a reflection

of the erection that made you

your a screw

and a loose cannon

I hope no one

ever hands you

precois goods again

and if you find a dictionary

I would like you

to look up the definiton

of friend

then brother

but dont bother

to tell me what you have learned

becuse scars will heal

but never the memory of the burn

your cashed out on my compasion

and smoked the last of my ciggretts

you dont deserve forgivness

as long as you speak with

the forked tounge

split by a tarnished silver spoon

you have nothing in common

with the sun or moon

your a monsoon of sadness

and Im sick of wading in your shallow pools

I have always been the fool

and you, the failure