Suddenly, there was a noise coming from the space inside your fingernails.
This dirty old pond, you know it will follow you to the deepest end of any ocean.
I can’t swim, but i have recklessly lived on landscapes where I’ve drowned in words i can’t pronounce.
These things, Oh these things I don’t know about.
I am bent in the suffix of verses.
I do sinful like I have no surface.
The heat is off,
But the sunshine is like a razor blade that can cut stone.
Please be careful, there’s glass in the comfort of pillows.
And the softest scream is like flowers that grow in empty attics.
She lives quietly on the tip of my lips.
She breaths clouds that I can sleep on like in romantic movie scripts
There is a wilderness fire in the bones of bee’s
When all I want is the sting that burns like breeze.
I may be a godless man, but the wings on my back are made of polyester and golden hair.
Not again, not the flowers that grow in cement of skins.
I’m waking up in blindness,
So I can calm the darkness.
You read my mind like a novel out of print.
I could almost feel your cold fingers ripping out each page.
Like night, the colorectal of ink fill my veins.
Maybe you can feel the blood that flows between the roots of my fingers.
I have days that taste like sour milk.
And the thought of crawling back into a womb without a push – is only a pull I can’t imagine.
You have the most beautiful scars I have ever seen.
I could almost drink the blood from the wounds of your skin.
This is what moves me,
This is what heaven almost feels like.
They could burst into a thousand pieces
I could misspell the word, harmony in the pages of your song book. (more…)
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