short glass of water to wash back the pills in hand last glass of water
i love music i know everyone does but i really do nothing can soothe me as much as
he burns through the keys in hopes to unlock himself with freedom of song
coiled in a moment of wonder to ponder the venom of his existen… remembering every instance that he prepared himself to strike with no recollection of hatching
sometimes a vampire wants to see t… but people of the village keep his… chained shut with garlic they wear crosses around their nec… so that if he ever does get out
i expose myself a show boat and a show pony i suppose myself a poet
his wings are lazy buzzing around the same pond a fly scared to change
last seen at the brink of the abys… screaming at god laughing at the devil and smoking loose tobacco dark eyes and burnt skin
Deep in The Milky Way they will meet again. Reflections, and shadows. Never-ending satellites crashing into never-ending stars.
i think about her at least once every day i think about all the different st… that i could take to get to her ho…
long begrimed with dust a floor looking for a broom love me for my scuffs
the friction ridges on his fingers are different than most where there are usually arches there are the shapes of broken hea… and laughing faces
so close to travels rocks along the railroad tracks never board the train
Once I was a psychopath who took quite a shine to his ax. Many times I’d leave a blood bath… but meticulously clean, and particularly keen,
black shirts worn at day they spoke mostly of music bonded by the odd
