Sep 2011
Inhale, exhale.
Lungs impale.
Burning quickly.
Who is this new, sick me?
Before I can ask, I'm gone.
Birds in the cloud.
But come dawn
I'm not proud.
I've come down.
At least for now.
Lungs impale.
Burning quickly.
Who is this new, sick me?
Before I can ask, I'm gone.
Birds in the cloud.
But come dawn
I'm not proud.
I've come down.
At least for now.
