Jan 2020
There were no lies
That could have
Choked me with
Their rose vines.
There was only truth,
A simple matter
Of a wild week.
The golden fountain
Of glorious euphoria
Wells up in me again,
Donating vitality
To my dying soul.
That could have
Choked me with
Their rose vines.
There was only truth,
A simple matter
Of a wild week.
The golden fountain
Of glorious euphoria
Wells up in me again,
Donating vitality
To my dying soul.
The illusion I had was that there were lies in the air. Me getting exited over small things again though.
