December 2010
38 posts
I chop down the fields just to take what I need
I cut through your skin just to show that you bleed
But I can’t quite find myself in the mirror
Can’t quite tell what I’m lookin’ at here
So I dig in the dirt and I find where it leads
I staple your veins to my discovery
Cover it all up to the surface
Mark it on the checklist worthless
Look me in the eyes they’ve heard it
The jury has...
It’s a bitter type, the movie type, with the outside looking in, when the bottles pile up and I don’t feel good the next day. A soft skin and a rough skin, I speak you with the wind and you go.
I find the place a mess, and I let you make it messier. I build a rubbish shrine and pretend to remember what I drank away but subconsciously hold tight. I tried to let go a bit; grip became greater,...
cactus-mouth asked: no skype. but i have aim. sn: brrrains.
cactus-mouth asked: diggin these collages like whoa
