Seventeen and burning down
I am a machine gun mouth,
A stomach without a heart,
Red dahlias growing with the weeds in your backyard,
I am a stick of dynamite
waiting for an excuse.
...
You are bored enough to hand me a match.
(I was always your favourite kind of shitshow)
I wrote this in a mood. not my best work, but it's good to come out of break.
