smoke garbage // do what you want // fuck what people say
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman
some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me
only an entity, something illusory
and though I can hide my cold gaze
and you can shake my hand
and feel flesh gripping yours
and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles
are probably comparable
I simply am not there
-- legend has it that before war i worship satan --
