F.T.Willz poems (prolly frank iero no one knows)

nO title

no
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future

the empty void is closing in, cloyingly sweet, beckoning like a half-naked woman in a sleazy strip club.

begging to give up, sitting down, closing off, it's there

when did it vanish, when did that bright star go off like someone hit a magic switch inside that brain

there was a time when

but it's gone now, so gone and so lost

prehistoric dusty old bones of an idea

-F.T.WillZ-must-die