we were born with death written on our arms.
you
wear it like a tattoo;
i wear it like a barcode that
god
stuck on the ******
cashier yells
“NEXT PLEASE”
& you try to get laser treatment.
smoking in graveyards the clouds sang.
we
fell in slow pieces.
nobody will recognise the tune.
god
has left us a sign,
sign reads:
GONE FISHIN’
i hold you crying in his hallway.
you started wearing death on your sleeve.
i
need a new skin;
you need to get a better shirt.
god
is not a dressmaker
but instead
a lover -
unbuttoning the words on my headstone.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
we were born with death written on our arms.
you
wear it like a tattoo;
i wear it like a barcode that
god
stuck on the ******
cashier yells
“NEXT PLEASE”
& you try to get laser treatment.
smoking in graveyards the clouds sang.
we
fell in slow pieces.
nobody will recognise the tune.
god
has left us a sign,
sign reads:
GONE FISHIN’
i hold you crying in his hallway.
you started wearing death on your sleeve.
i
need a new skin;
you need to get a better shirt.
god
is not a dressmaker
but instead
a lover -
unbuttoning the words on my headstone.
