Wilt my lungs
I’ll breathe in bitter bloom
And fill my chest with concrete tombs
At twenty one I exhaled tar
And covered my birthday cake
Ribs for the skyline
This city built a church round my heart
Before some gutter punks spray painted the side of the stained glass
With the suicide rates of middle-class citizens
Nothing has been the same since
When I was young
I was raised on Disney
And taught that my bones were living things
At thirteen years old
I nestled a heart within the clouds and smoke of my chest
It suffocated to death
I’ve never broken a bone
But I’ve trailed plenty of marrow
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Wilt my lungs
I’ll breathe in bitter bloom
And fill my chest with concrete tombs
At twenty one I exhaled tar
And covered my birthday cake
Ribs for the skyline
This city built a church round my heart
Before some gutter punks spray painted the side of the stained glass
With the suicide rates of middle-class citizens
Nothing has been the same since
When I was young
I was raised on Disney
And taught that my bones were living things
At thirteen years old
I nestled a heart within the clouds and smoke of my chest
It suffocated to death
I’ve never broken a bone
But I’ve trailed plenty of marrow
3:03am, September 14th 2014
Naivety is a killer, and we are so very brittle.
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