There is a list on one hand that reads:
Breathe, wake up, left then right (repeat).
When I look at other people, the only thing I realize
Is that my hands are empty.
I am seven empty bottles and the feeling
That I haven’t been sober in twenty-four hours.
With the patterns on the rug all of the time,
With blues and yellows and brighter colors,
No matter what I’d choose nothing but your smile;
Warmth inside and teeth like shiny glass
Where there’s room enough for me.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
There is a list on one hand that reads:
Breathe, wake up, left then right (repeat).
When I look at other people, the only thing I realize
Is that my hands are empty.
I am seven empty bottles and the feeling
That I haven’t been sober in twenty-four hours.
With the patterns on the rug all of the time,
With blues and yellows and brighter colors,
No matter what I’d choose nothing but your smile;
Warmth inside and teeth like shiny glass
Where there’s room enough for me.