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It’s sometime past midnight on a wednesday, stumbling around the house once again, where floorboards cry out and I resent every thing I said and held back, every cigarette that whispered until my lungs turned black, shards of beer labels collide with dust piles, ashes skidded aimlessly on the pine, hopelessly wandering looking into hindsight was only a mess to clean up, I haven’t eaten today but the dishes are ***** it’s 11:30 and I’m glued to the bedsheets as the bed weeps with each toss and turn comes contemplation to cross and burn every memory embedded, the bedroom smells like cloudy ashtrays and things unfinished, our paths crossed in october, and yesterday was tough on everyone.
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
2 Fortnights Since°
It’s sometime past midnight on a wednesday, stumbling around the house once again, where floorboards cry out and I resent every thing I said and held back, every cigarette that whispered until my lungs turned black, shards of beer labels collide with dust piles, ashes skidded aimlessly on the pine, hopelessly wandering looking into hindsight was only a mess to clean up, I haven’t eaten today but the dishes are ***** it’s 11:30 and I’m glued to the bedsheets as the bed weeps with each toss and turn comes contemplation to cross and burn every memory embedded, the bedroom smells like cloudy ashtrays and things unfinished, our paths crossed in october, and yesterday was tough on everyone.
Look deeper than a ***** room.
MitchNihilist
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Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
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