behold, the ugliest man alive, the destroyer of peace, the tsunami in her life,
no penance for the player of raw living emotions; pure life,
amalgamated by earthly worms, perfection eroded by day.
No relief for the torturous soul, the sad, pathetic being,
the cunning cunt, the epitome of faulty creation.
Cupid is my bitch, and it bites me more than it licks,
the wounds of its target's magnanimous heart.
Krsna I fake to be. Arjuna I make them feel. The purest evil is my own being,
Krsna I seek, for I am completely clueless of the path,
the harrowing decision of letting go of love.
or
to keep on the playing path...
nikunj