I am the sea. I am the clouds.  And the dirt you carry within your dreams.  i am the pain.  i taste the blood.  Even though it’s 2 o’clock in the mourning and time to go home.  To the nothings and the peculiars of an emptiest life.
   i am the child who once painted lipstick
on a pet / the grimmest hour I stood alone /  i wanted to die / and now i’ve grown up without the hope of a warmer house I could call my life ||
i am the tea.  i am the cup.  Of no particular taste and i want to throw up / and it’s always the last one who calls me hon / you should get a better life. |||

:: 09-06-2018 ::