Jul 2010
I sing to you
who makes me sick,
who sleeps in my house in a bowl on the bed
And drives a car as I scream of the hollow lives I live.
There, there.
Everyone who is happy this hurts you,
I am.
who makes me sick,
who sleeps in my house in a bowl on the bed
And drives a car as I scream of the hollow lives I live.
There, there.
Everyone who is happy this hurts you,
I am.
Magnetic poetry night. Do monologues count?
