My mind is tired from the marathons it’s been running around my head, trying to make sense of a society so hell bent on hating one another under the guise of Christianity. You think everything is black or white, right or wrong, conspiracy or honesty, when the God I know can’t work that way. Send me to sleep tonight without a prayer, because I don’t know what to ask for anymore. For now, I’m content with the bed I’ve made deep within sheets of grey.
Inflamed ambition, potent visions, hopes, latent plans of action... Trifling in my own version and order of things. In the middle of chaos, the only factor that fails to enter the equation is the means that'll enable me to achieve my end.
She’s made of, stardust, and dances, on the surface, of the, moon. She breathes, the scent, of roses, with a hint, of cigarettes, and black cherry, incense. She intoxicates, the room, with her, presence, as she twirls, and spins, the world, does too.