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I think I'll drink myself to death

just like all the greats before me

like all the brilliant minds

who lusted at the world's beauty

then undressed it, to see it naked

and for what it really was...

the minds who threw it's leather lingerie on the floor

only to discover all the nasty soars

on its otherwise perfect cunt

dripping wet with beautiful oceans.

The world lost it's innocence

when mankind raped it

with filthy, greedy cocks, lubed with oil...

and now she's a crack whore

who'll most likely die

from the diseases we left her with.

So I spend my nights drinking

and writing

leaving this used up world

for the one I create in my head when I'm drunk

just so I can get off

without that disease spreading to my soul.

I'll probably die a drunk

but at least I'll die with a soul, unlike so many others.