droplets of broken bottle happiness sit on your roof and drip off the brains gutter into the dopamine sewer.
im talking about the place i call home where rainbow kerosene puddles lead into a perfect paradise if you close your eyes
im talking about that feeling you get when you reach that milestone in your life where you finally hit the bottom of that bottle your mom keeps on the highest shelf when your fourteen and your head feels a bit fuzzy and for the first time you lose your sense of feeling and they have to open your tired eyes with crowbars and your parents laugh when you stumble the sad city streets and you fall down the stairs on your way back home
you saw things for what they really were too quickly and they tried to **** you for it
so you packed up the bags from under your pupils and with your sad little blueberry eyes you left in the night and ran barefoot through the snowy woods.
you know in your heart that it doesn't get any better then this.
the faces of friends and city signs are already being washed away