crowded thoughts muffled expressions across your face
throw up on the pillows and blankets
I can't get warm enough to feel your embrace
in this thick liquid posion seeping out of your veins
sweat developing on your hairline
can't think straight
I'm turning and turning
like a merry go round
but I don't go merry around anywhere right now
I'm writing stories here in the creases of the sheets,
stinking of your vomit on my floor,
your bottles in my garbage under my sink
the house is a mess
and my parents are coming home in less than 24 hours.
Just fucking great.
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About Me
- Guerrilla Libre
- This is literally my internet notebook. My thoughts at the moment, the words that come straight from my brain to my fingertips tapping on the keyboard to you.
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