《F.T.Willz poems (prolly frank iero no one knows)》houston, we have a...

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they've found the fake among the fakers and now they find themselves arrogantly successful, they think they're so cool (you're so cool cool cool). ice cube's got nothin on them, they're so cool they freeze everything and everyone around them. but the fake among the fakers was the only legitimate one, the rest were true. bullshit fakers pretending to be truth tellers, the truth was really all they knew. the fake they found was the only real liar, the cheat, the swindler, the poor man among the rich, begging on the street corners for even just one tiny sliver of honesty. he never got it, because no one would take time out of the day to stoop down to his level, look into his face, and say, "this is what you've been looking for, i have it and i'll share it with you." everyone hustled and bustled along, keeping their truth locked inside until it made them sick and they had to run to the nearest waste receptacle and puke it all up, puke up their guts and their minds and their blood. all over that hapless city, people with their heads stuck deep inside dumpsters and trash cans and toilets. and still, no one gave that poor fool, that selfish miserable liar, anything. no one gave him anything, they just let it all go to shit, because that's what people do.

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