a union of metal and steel

 

 you don't lose sight,
a fat lipped pussy fight
will make you crawl the walls and stalk,
the next little victimite.
she might, she might never,
 but you hear green light, when its red and raw,
think you're so clever,
disheveled,
so tall, dark, and brooding,
your mood swings, an uptick.
"what's up, bitch?"
phonetical poser,
roadkill stuffed tight, hoser,
a night time charge-in
just pull her down again...
the spin cycle will do her better
than your ego stroking,
no cap, it's not a wrap,
you deserve each other,
take it all in and clap.