I lay in my bed
Barrying my face in pages of nonsense to take away my pain
I've lost you once again
I know any minute he'll walk into my from from a long night of french fries
Ill compose myself and read again
I play with my hair and come to the realization
I smell like him
French fries and insilen
That's all I've smelled like for a month
Sense the second we ended
Everything my hair my bed my clothes even my book
Everything smells of my distractions
I used to smell like menthol old spice and bo
I would live in the stench of you
My favorite smell in the world
The kind that brought you home
Brought you back to everything you used to be
A person walks past you with even a hint of you
Instint attraction
I follow that feeling
Feeling your hands on my hips
Your lips tickling my neck
I can feel that ting of energy go all the way to my toes
Nothing makes me feel as safe
As hurt
As much as myself as the stench of you
Bringing me home to my bed
My bed you used to share
Curled and linked as one
Now I can't smell a thing.

I wish i could just hit you with this writers block.. its the only solid thing that remains on my watch, besides the useless clock and you telling me to stop so i act not positive but only for the thought of my cause. turning rights into wrongs for the darkness is comfort, barrying my head in the dirt So i could think from down under. forgetting where thunder comes from i throw the block over my shoulder and continue to silently soldier my way threw this old curse of lost words.. I've never asked them why it hurts. Just continue to suffer hopen these verbs will work them selves out with an open stir from the colapse of my souls worth.. living dead i relapse on the feeling of hearing some critiqued work. So i write from another artists eyes, relizing the potential of my vocal instrument on a low pitch cure.  EARTHH BOUND