claeysWhisper

American

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earlyi daydream of nights i have no recollection of / i close my eyes and think of how bright we felt / how young and in love we were

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you, masochistmilk, what a waste / you were my favourite / addressing your past

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/andthen we were / enemies / because I drunkenly

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Trying.The distance between my green boots / And the door / The distance between your well fucked mattress

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12.11.12right now we sing along / our inner monologue / clenching eyes, shut tight

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the epicuristWhat I can control / And what I cannot / we were wonderful then

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ThereBeside you / this small child, follows / hides near you

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