Can you hear her?
Beauty abused
Love unrequited
Her quill dipped in passion fire
Lilting
Setting the world in flames
Brighter than day
Darker than the silent moon
Paper can not contain her words
They cry and immolate
And ask why?
Blackened ash screams across the crying breeze
her words frothing on a beach of gravitational singularity
Painting forlorn beauty
The circle seeking completion with elusive Tangent.
Know!
I will be there
In the darkness of your night
When all is gone
Reason abandoned
The wind …
Will always whisper her name
Well, howdedo
This is a beauty Quas. Touched my heart even though I know it’s not about me. It could almost be but… my quill doesn’t set the world in flames. The world doesn’t read my words and the wind never heard my name. 
Yea, it’s about Alphonse down the street. He’s a beasitalest, fucks all the small animals in the neighborhood. Normally i would call Freud but as the small animals keep coming back I can only assume he is good at his chosen perversion.
Oh, I forgot Para, you are a tard…
Well that’s what I thought… had to be Alphonse.
Why do you always gotta call me a tard, Quas? I don’t call you a tard. …and always pullin my tails… mean ass! 
Yea, the only pleasure i have in this cesspool is pulling your tails. You would deny me that?
eh. I’m goin’ to Brooklyn on the Beastie Boys bus.