Come a little closer dear reaper. Please, so i can break your bones for the lovers. I can see my grave stone from here and the hole to the next world is waiting. i am a writer and the pitch thought of my next defeat is this. the black edged points and smooth curves of the lovers lines grace past my head and though my hands. i am a writer and the lovers are on paper for you children, combined in an over powering orgy making more and more space in your eyes. But no, the lovers are the Satanist beast that the parent of meaning told you about. NO, dont think of them as hells party. Dont think of me as the Satan, the ring leader of their angle love. Get off me reaper so i can say my word, take your rubber fingers away. The lovers are my children, made from my outburst desire for more meaning so look at them closer. You may say in the hole writer and without hesitation, gods servant to death, but ripper this man of pen strokes is telling my lovers life. They are to be looked and looked upon again and again to make the childrens see more. Children, look at there naked texture and see more than their bodies and the way they are put in to place. Children look at what a more meaningful way they move. Their movements and penetrated blows are for you, yes you children are the purpose of everything. Dont be as dense as your parents look outside yours and their minds to see more. Maybe just maybe it wont just be pornography but a reflect of you and what is wrong with you. i lay deep within the grown now for you black angle without bargaining. But merely do a last reguest for the passing. Write on my tomb stone, 'There Was More Than My Lovers, There was a Meaning,'. That is it that is all i say for my last words because the children, me, and you all want meaning. The lovers gave it but it was not seen so they were judged and then came the ripper. To erase me. i wont cry for me, i wont tear for the lovers, but i am sad for the children.