The Shine

The angst comes with a grip... Strapped to the shaft of my silver gun, it shines on my runs, I like to eat when I kill because killing isn't fun, just like when swimming underwater satisfies the sun, coming up again gives ya the bump, seeing the daylight once again- feeling that heat like a Mexican, when thinking of blessings and the rest of the world in a big bubble with smoke and glitter- the regular people have splinters- they are livers... But need help, because the first world acts bitter. I will never show how much fitter anybody could be if bid come ta hither, if one were to become prisoner, and needed time like listeners... The the smallest of us all, hearing the most, and breathing the boast... Coming again and again, needing nothing but stories of kin, people they love being here for them, and so can be you... Just don't ever say shoe, and they will hear you! Jump up and do, because the rest of the world says wait to choose.