lament for my cock, sore and crucified…

ladycry wolf, cry foul but don’t cry out loud, just keep it inside and rue your own bitter failings. what altar of ego isn’t embossed with the falsehoods of self image? what to do when you have to share your own god and the exclusivity confined to the four corners of your mind is freed and open? why attack those things you secretly loath about yourself in the personification of your self-adulation and spout off platitudes regarding “being real”, “selling out” and other banalities attacking authenticity when it is clear that if you wanted something authentic, you wouldn’t have gone looking for it in somebody monikered diablo cody.

so don’t give me the world today
and tomorrow take it away…

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