Goths for Bush

george bush

the night falls in a heavy, suffocating cloak, entwined are we.
the salvation from bush we lust for
flares once, then dies again,
swallowed by a velvet ebonite nothingness.
all hope must surely perish if he wins.

his passion throbs no more.
how could he tear us asunder?
his shadows surround us all, crying,
save us from ourselves, we will follow you.

"Hello, I don't like to talk to people. This is all I have, it contains a part of me..."

The Goths have the swing states lined up to deliver four more years of dark, delicious, Anne Rice-a-Roni filled sorrow-daggers upon our black, black souls.

More tragedy after the link at the bottom of this bitter post (how appropriate, the bottom is where the slime of our souls gather... ah!... to weep!)

Now I'm off to put out a few lit cigarettes on my tummy, I still haven't gotten over losing Brandon Lee yet.