my eyes are on fire
every time my feet start smelling
of digested cabbages
by cow stomachs, and sourcing
inspiration, likewise
the modern slave,
each time my eyes start warming up,
and i see no future, no future
apart from fire; i don't know why
my eyes become inflamed,
it's not a case of seeing is believing,
this precedes it;
it's like a single word from Slayer's
lyrics right now... BURN!
sunglasses in the night, yet still
the eyes imprint sulphur on ash.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
my eyes are on fire
every time my feet start smelling
of digested cabbages
by cow stomachs, and sourcing
inspiration, likewise
the modern slave,
each time my eyes start warming up,
and i see no future, no future
apart from fire; i don't know why
my eyes become inflamed,
it's not a case of seeing is believing,
this precedes it;
it's like a single word from Slayer's
lyrics right now... BURN!
sunglasses in the night, yet still
the eyes imprint sulphur on ash.