I want you to understand
every strand of hair on my body is in pain
my blood is a knife
flowing through me
secretly whispering your name to my skin
and my skin burns and falls like ash
my sheets are stained with the deader parts of me
my body lays on the bed
and in the dark hallway
I am peering into the room
watching the love rot away
and decay
the moon burries itself into the sun
and I bury myself into everything I cant reach
and I sink so
so
deep
will you create those little things
when you look back and think of all the memories
like a picture
old snap shot
tattered edges
wearing all white I hold my breathe
next to the massive body of water
Im made out of salt
and I melt on the lips of the winds
the humidity is staining my fingertips
and Im closing my eyes immersing in the
dysphoria of all of this
finally
posture comes to my bended bones
when I realize I am a waterfall
stuck in the drawer of an old mahogany vinaty set
laying somewhere in a abandoned house years
and ages away
miles and miles far remote from this place
I stare in haste
I collaborate with the atoms around me
the molecules that form my wasted id
Im a child, my hands are still small
but they are rough
Im at the park, its the closest I can get to my seed
the dirt that I am made out of
cause nothing here is natural anymore
take me away please
somewhere where I can walk on history
not in a land were the worst genocide took place
an annihlation that was dressed in a costume
oh no it was a cleansing
I rather walk on gravel
broken roads
then on fresh paved streets
I rather live in the forest
than in this so called democracy
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
I want you to understand
every strand of hair on my body is in pain
my blood is a knife
flowing through me
secretly whispering your name to my skin
and my skin burns and falls like ash
my sheets are stained with the deader parts of me
my body lays on the bed
and in the dark hallway
I am peering into the room
watching the love rot away
and decay
the moon burries itself into the sun
and I bury myself into everything I cant reach
and I sink so
so
deep
will you create those little things
when you look back and think of all the memories
like a picture
old snap shot
tattered edges
wearing all white I hold my breathe
next to the massive body of water
Im made out of salt
and I melt on the lips of the winds
the humidity is staining my fingertips
and Im closing my eyes immersing in the
dysphoria of all of this
finally
posture comes to my bended bones
when I realize I am a waterfall
stuck in the drawer of an old mahogany vinaty set
laying somewhere in a abandoned house years
and ages away
miles and miles far remote from this place
I stare in haste
I collaborate with the atoms around me
the molecules that form my wasted id
Im a child, my hands are still small
but they are rough
Im at the park, its the closest I can get to my seed
the dirt that I am made out of
cause nothing here is natural anymore
take me away please
somewhere where I can walk on history
not in a land were the worst genocide took place
an annihlation that was dressed in a costume
oh no it was a cleansing
I rather walk on gravel
broken roads
then on fresh paved streets
I rather live in the forest
than in this so called democracy
