Pulsing
Pulsing
All I'm doing is pulsing
A tight grip on loose air
A fickle taste of lips in the midst of a tragic interwoven memory despite their tastelessness and despite their grievance. Destroy them upon where they stand, and not because you want to but because they have to go. The shimmers of electric signals sending to your brain, seeing stars from a fall or dizziness from the spiral staircase which sends you to where you now seem to be. Desolate and a holiday and a slap and a curfew and a nap in the lake of humanity in the woods of lunacy in the dark of what we fail to see.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
Pulsing
Pulsing
All I'm doing is pulsing
A tight grip on loose air
A fickle taste of lips in the midst of a tragic interwoven memory despite their tastelessness and despite their grievance. Destroy them upon where they stand, and not because you want to but because they have to go. The shimmers of electric signals sending to your brain, seeing stars from a fall or dizziness from the spiral staircase which sends you to where you now seem to be. Desolate and a holiday and a slap and a curfew and a nap in the lake of humanity in the woods of lunacy in the dark of what we fail to see.