LADY GODIVA: The Naked Truth

I saw you, blurred face in your glory haze  kissing on all your bae living out your last days at Ray's "Your Brother" is behind you in almost every photo I got every one      and my mom telling me to let go but they don't know what I know. I'm not the one whom should be embarrassed, cyber-stalker or canvassed?  I bet the new standard  is rancid breath  your inside voice is yelling this new Tarot spread is oh, so, very telling the tale has crash appeal the plot's so compelling  I can't help but analyze what you cannibalize  what you say but don't verbalize  it's the feature that sold me. He's not here to scold me away from reality anymore the reality, it is really, really ugly stop taking selfies so smugly you're a bit too loco, a bit too local,  and mummy & daddy fear your beer isn't low cal  she's so basic so clutch so ratchet so such with her blander banter    wi...

Mrs. James Bond,      I don't know why           but I don't expect you to talk I expect you to die. For you've already survived a thousand micro-suicides.     Cronus is not on your side,      you cannot cross            this Bridge of Sighs,      you're affiliated with The Lord of Flies       more than caffeinated with all that lies beneath your cross moon.  Standing underneath your bedroom window they've watched the glow go right out from your eyes it's distinctly extinguished anguish now occupies; psychosis, leaks from the sides. All your ride or die bitches go on their own rides, leaving you behind with your ever growing paranoia even the stars will soon disown ya, 'cause you can't prioritize and you can't mature and every thing you say has the substance of manure but the worst thing ...

backwards father wandering daughter taught her 123 ABC ego-centrism & hypocrisy. passed down an-ass-cancer-gene to a girl that's been passing out since 13. she guzzles down  whatever's handy while you-- Ronnie -- hardly noted the drip at the back of her throat from all the coke she's coated up her nose to make her face so bloated. on meth she can't sleep The Past makes too much noise. It squeaks. She still hears the boards creak  'members what those boys made her do for toys  sure she's got ten toes but they'll be six feet under when she'll overdose  beneath a white oak tree sooo.... where you be, Daddy? tryin' to be all buddy-buddy when you all fuddy-duddy    too busy off being normal a real  Illinois  boy  while she's ill in Ohio living with the Iroquois  you intervene too late you enable too much and what's ironic to me, is the irony and I got a hu...

Strange, is your southern comfort. A cracked withering queen. Your meat's not free range. Heightening nothing but your senses. But oh, what a scene.  Lowering your sensibilities.  Forgetting your responsibilities.  There's no humanity in your consumption.  Fully dubious, that there ever was. Comes the time, for retribution.  She's got money for make-up, clothes, booze, 'n' drugs. She's got time for temptations, corruption, hoes, 'n' thugs. Another selfie in the bathroom. Another boy in the bedroom. Huffing perfume.  Putting filters on her eyes.   Now she never cries. Just screams. Like she screamed in the ride      to the hospital     to the therapist  Life makes it hard to cope     when you're related     to your rapist  Love can make you lie,     make you acquiescent   ...