So our secret remains a mystery, floating, false accusations that you spread on your tongue makes me weak with desperation, spewing beneath my pours, who was I to you? Short memory, long lived now forgotten degraded into dust. My expression lingers into nothing, a void you fantasize over. I’ve seen beneath your skin who you are as a person, but truthfully fate tends to select one’s perspective. So the lingering accusation, I tend to fall short on. The lies you have, you are convicted of your crime. But the mass manipulator covers your scars with stories, you forbid to escort yourself as a good person. My apologies, I forget that your attention span tends to only last with cum dripping down your chin. Degrading your mind consumed with alcohol. The stuttering I do on your behalf, begins to blur. As you weep in your shadows, you purposely endure.