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trevor-blevinsPoems
Your new side was fake And covered in all the rust you need To start a war. There were springs sticking out From holes in the mattress The night you told me I was void of form. It must haunt you now To think that I'm such a good abstraction. Lacrimosa, Lacrimosa... My dear, I'd prefer to sing alone. To think of you washed In all the colors falling Like Whistler's Rocket So far below the moon... I cry away any sanctity Placed upon me in my youth. When I am stricken With all the words Uttered over the silence Of our modern, beautiful Communication... I will fall silent. I will fall still. I will be quiet, But I will be swift, And I will be void of mercy To all but myself.
0
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
Danube, Blood Red.
Your new side was fake And covered in all the rust you need To start a war. There were springs sticking out From holes in the mattress The night you told me I was void of form. It must haunt you now To think that I'm such a good abstraction. Lacrimosa, Lacrimosa... My dear, I'd prefer to sing alone. To think of you washed In all the colors falling Like Whistler's Rocket So far below the moon... I cry away any sanctity Placed upon me in my youth. When I am stricken With all the words Uttered over the silence Of our modern, beautiful Communication... I will fall silent. I will fall still. I will be quiet, But I will be swift, And I will be void of mercy To all but myself.
#love#sadness#sorrow#guilt#europe#mozart
trevor-blevins
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trevor-blevins
28/M
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
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