Your hands permeate me like sick whiskey
laced me down, evidence there
stuck in the concrete
if you'd like a look than-
oh, I broke your glasses on the stairs
all the better, the inside's unsightly
with as many nails in the wall as strands of your hair
a hook stuck in my lip, I didn't intend for it to end there
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Your hands permeate me like sick whiskey
laced me down, evidence there
stuck in the concrete
if you'd like a look than-
oh, I broke your glasses on the stairs
all the better, the inside's unsightly
with as many nails in the wall as strands of your hair
a hook stuck in my lip, I didn't intend for it to end there
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