Notice she's kneeling to the cliffs of a river.
The cracks of her jaw give a quiver.
The sky collapses behind her.
Through these eyes tainted in blur,
I see the sand man is singing.
These delusions he's brining.
*Polystyrene flowers,
With sights that devour,
Of purple and gold,*
Beauty spoken yet untold.
Entwined through her thigh,
There's always a death to deny.
"Could you lead me to the stars?"
Cotton wool sown clouds,
Hovering above crowds,
Towering over his head.
His lungs fell dead.
*Leaving a voided space,
For a lit bomb to interlace,
With his soul.*
He's a self-awarded black hole.
"Second to the right,
And straight on till morning ends the night."
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Notice she's kneeling to the cliffs of a river.
The cracks of her jaw give a quiver.
The sky collapses behind her.
Through these eyes tainted in blur,
I see the sand man is singing.
These delusions he's brining.
*Polystyrene flowers,
With sights that devour,
Of purple and gold,*
Beauty spoken yet untold.
Entwined through her thigh,
There's always a death to deny.
"Could you lead me to the stars?"
Cotton wool sown clouds,
Hovering above crowds,
Towering over his head.
His lungs fell dead.
*Leaving a voided space,
For a lit bomb to interlace,
With his soul.*
He's a self-awarded black hole.
"Second to the right,
And straight on till morning ends the night."
