The dehydrated working class poet. Not afraid to admit I'm wrong. Just hard being wrong for so long.
Sunday, 12 April 2015
another lifetime.
The positive thought destroyed by the negative need, the need to need someone who needs me, none of the previous. Close my eyes and perhaps the clouds will pass through me. Dark as burning sugar, a little more then less. And everybody bleeds, but it's anyones guess.
I like dancein on tables and gettin drunk, drunk enought to fall and stumble, to know im lost and feel its ok to mumble. time takes to long so im tryin to express how i feel. but the question is always there is any of this real?
No comments:
Post a Comment