The one time you cant trust.
The hardest part.
Is when your puking, in the floor,
clutching a heart tied in knots.
I am the floor.
And the ***** I spit up,
Is your hair.
It's wired it's way,
Into every stomach and vein.
And I am merely a shape,
Clinging in these malignant strands.
A ghost shape cut from starlight.
On the ash tray wood floor planks. Yawing and lurching,
With lost control,
Strapped with constraint.
The ghost gave up it's insides .
Gave up it's happiness,
Gave up all it's heart mind,
Locked it in a box,
Under the floorboards,
And nailed the shutter door panel ******* shut.
His eyes bled out into the Amoire.
The coat closet has his heart.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
The one time you cant trust.
The hardest part.
Is when your puking, in the floor,
clutching a heart tied in knots.
I am the floor.
And the ***** I spit up,
Is your hair.
It's wired it's way,
Into every stomach and vein.
And I am merely a shape,
Clinging in these malignant strands.
A ghost shape cut from starlight.
On the ash tray wood floor planks. Yawing and lurching,
With lost control,
Strapped with constraint.
The ghost gave up it's insides .
Gave up it's happiness,
Gave up all it's heart mind,
Locked it in a box,
Under the floorboards,
And nailed the shutter door panel ******* shut.
His eyes bled out into the Amoire.
The coat closet has his heart.
Giving your heart away every time.
Pieces get stuck from every person you love.
Love is like splintering wicker.
Both parties trade parts.
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