i haven't written anything in months
my blood is dried up and my eyes are rotting
my muse is gone
i bleed beer
i never sleep
the dreams of wicked faces haunt me
terror is most real in broad daylight
as the bodies lie in the streets
as the ichor fills the gutter
as the pungent stench of ten thousand
miserable lives
*****
in the distance
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 3:02 AM UTC
i haven't written anything in months
my blood is dried up and my eyes are rotting
my muse is gone
i bleed beer
i never sleep
the dreams of wicked faces haunt me
terror is most real in broad daylight
as the bodies lie in the streets
as the ichor fills the gutter
as the pungent stench of ten thousand
miserable lives
*****
in the distance
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