rage for breakfast, envy for lunch
the road i travel is a bloody branch of misery for which i am inclined to believe there is no pit stop
forlorn in an agony that makes me want to eat your eyes from their sockets with knobby fingertips
to want as bad as i,
and to be denied it
to live as long as i,
and be denied it
i want to scream murder at your monarchal face
one would kill for what you have
one has killed for less
