A bad joke without lines
Punch the air, hands collapse in desperate coma
My eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these ties
A stale and ugly kiss
Handsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve flesh
...
Self-medicating ghost of times past forgotten
There is no dark pride in loneliness
Escape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fade
What?s your pleasure, pistol or syringe?
...Watch those memories
Or drop dead
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
bring out the stars
el e asa frumos ca te sperie e aproape somptuos in tristetea sa fiecare din noi e implantat perfect in locul lui lipsa induce spaima panica rusine e ca si cind as imbratisa aerul liniile se ating din cind in cind se produce electricitate
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
cu mentiunea ca acolo exista intotdeauna electricitate; contactul, daca se produce, e bine, daca nu, e la fel de bine.
1 comment:
cu mentiunea ca acolo exista intotdeauna electricitate; contactul, daca se produce, e bine, daca nu, e la fel de bine.
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