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the poppy sky / colours out front / while the golden goats get massacred / and grey goose / gets a drink after her / and there's so much burning in my stomach / that i end up / infecting a bible with my cursed hands / hoping this is not where / i pay
no slashes but they hurt / all right, my wrist hurt like bitch / and crying spells if were / cake / why i'm having a birthday bash / cuz there's so much to this world / i don't wish to learn
— and it's all coming back.
a nightmarish puzzle piece i find / in meadows of a land forgotten / and gee alzheimer's! / there are more, only to discover / i know what picture they're building / but i can't accept it / reality imposed
warm trickle of blood and a good dream / where i am drowning the landlord's head / and singing songs of religious ethics / as i advance towards / a blue hole / blue because it has sorrows, angst, frustrating noises and the
sky is pale to the satisfaction i feel / what love! what love! / revolvers being revolutions / tis true, tis neat, by the way it solves / everything
— if only sleep were permanent.
—
hey. heard olivia singing "they say these are your golden years but i wish i could disappear" and had a crying spell. shitè.
