Oct 2012
Clear glass bottles are gathering by my bedside
My throat’s a drain, washing away the stains on my gullet
I’m poisoned
.08% is easily surpassable as long as the problems keep on coming
I’m running
I’m stumbling
Everything’s blurring
I’m home
My throat’s a drain, washing away the stains on my gullet
I’m poisoned
.08% is easily surpassable as long as the problems keep on coming
I’m running
I’m stumbling
Everything’s blurring
I’m home
I challenged myself to write a poem for anyone and everyone of my friends that retweeted a tweet on my twitter. This is one of them.
