i can taste claustrophobia
and it tastes like vanilla ice cream
white is not a color
but rather the lack there of
that is who i am
i am - everything but
the only temple i pray to
burns every summer
and my father made me into a snowflake
cold and melting
my mouth tastes like mothballs
a few times a day
maybe it means i'm dying
turning into an attic from the inside
i'm reminded
every time i say my name
i'm the illusion of a crayon box
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 7:34 AM UTC
i can taste claustrophobia
and it tastes like vanilla ice cream
white is not a color
but rather the lack there of
that is who i am
i am - everything but
the only temple i pray to
burns every summer
and my father made me into a snowflake
cold and melting
my mouth tastes like mothballs
a few times a day
maybe it means i'm dying
turning into an attic from the inside
i'm reminded
every time i say my name
i'm the illusion of a crayon box
