Lately i've been thinking that i cleared a whole side of my room for you. because your presence should be framed when your visits arrive. they are white
It seems to be cold in here inside the empty head of you, the end of you. when you speak, your pink, pink snout spouts out poison, and wihtout a doubt
I am a prisoner in a war full of idiots. The stomping feet of waltzing hypocrites pave the way of a brave tomorrow, choke the throat of passion and
In his nightmare black rain fell and clogged their first kiss, now suffocating she dies in his arms, now their love is a floating ghost, as she turns
I've seen you sitting in your bed, in your brown gown of dead flowers and in your room, in it's corners where spiders crawl, and a sour dream centipede
You are every ounce of horror every reminding second of a completely terrible life, you're the single most constant mistake of why most my bodyaches
That whisper, your lovely curling razor, mistakenly wound around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession, your obsession
