blinding sun and choking air,
smoking nights in a longing lair,
holed up naked or walking down clothed,
music to my ears the sounds that echo,
silence under my eyelids/lipstick,
frustration stuck in my throat,
foul words and the tip of my tongue,
—oh fuck it all
and i love him more than death loves life
and i hate him less than life hates death
i’m a haunted house where the echoes of past laughs ring faintly through corridors… paint
liminal haze of waking up,to a white walled,cob-webbed coffin,erasing life off too quickly,yesterday forgotten like,history
rub the soap till it’s petal thin, water in shampoo to keep it swell, same
part of this dark i am,she weeps beside meno sound no water,a disoriented beat,with only
sometimes, every word i have ever written seem pointless, devoid of any meaning… that those
