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
Sunday, January 11, 2009
wishing well
suferinta si gindurile foarte intense, efectele pe care le produc, fiecare luat in parte, toate astea se ridica in aer si produc scintei electrice cind se intilnesc
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