But he knows, in all of his innocence, that,
they are just slow daggers cutting away at
his heart.
He waits paitently for the next abrupt time.
Dry wit, and sorrowed eyes with dashes of
purity can't help him now.
Underneath the covers, he shivers, history is
his hand.
His frigid face, with sunlight lips, tremble.
He can't stop shaking, his teeth omit
a serious, horrifying chatter, whose
very sound scares, himself.
The blinding lights slowly engulf
themselves into his body & his soul.
The reflections of a naked past, the
drenched words of a dishonest man.
In all of his pain, he doesn't fear, it's
just the unsettling moves of h
Pure,
Like a virgin's unkissed lips.
But I want you, dirty, dirty child
Who grows on fences and streaks
About like orphan vines that've
Got somewhere to go. Write all
Over you because you're (not) mine.
Don't you love the smell of
Repetitive rain? I think I could
Breathe in a world of rain, soaked
That's how I want you.
Knotted hair wet with tears of broken glass.
Stolen girl,
You don't spark the way you should.
Lets take a drive, you, me, cold air
And galloping pound of picture-esque
Scenes. There's not much I want to do
Before I die,
Only pictures. It's a solemn thing.
I could drown in glass air,
yr words not mine.
Fl