wake up, the sun is cold
amongst the din of mourning doves
and impossible airwaves.
breathe, are you ready for
the apocalypse of silent words?
stuttering silver mercury
and glimmering plasma
tracing paths in your brain,
and the sun is cold,
so cold, and the coffee is black
and, my lover doesn't even know
who I am anymore.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
wake up, the sun is cold
amongst the din of mourning doves
and impossible airwaves.
breathe, are you ready for
the apocalypse of silent words?
stuttering silver mercury
and glimmering plasma
tracing paths in your brain,
and the sun is cold,
so cold, and the coffee is black
and, my lover doesn't even know
who I am anymore.
