How do I wash you off me?
I drowned myself in the scalding Chlorine of your broken promises of eternity, I could still witness your fingerprints on my soul. You're not leaving my dreams, not even the voices occupying my mind and I wake up on the phantasmal alarm of your saccharine hushed voice. The despicable memories keep throwing their corpses around me like a carpet of shattered glass for my feet to smoothly crack with crimson passion, and I smear some more on my walls to creep out the intruders.
How cunning can pain be?
I will not admit my feckless intemperance to the enslaving flavor of agony, I fancy a little bitter my mouth. And you were too sweet, I had to turn you sour for my buds to accept you. And I did. I toyed with the taste of your identity so I could recognize who I was. I may have been cursed with youth, but I fell in love with an old soul. Maybe that's why you chose heaven way too early and I challenged hell to be my home.
Death to hell and hell to death.
I'm aware I was no Romeo, I was the guardian of your dungeon. Oh, darling. I left the key dangling down your neck with you convinced that freedom was held captive inside with you. I built you from scratch, from the ashes of my ruin; with wood out of my sumptuous roots and nails as tenacious as my pompousness always have been. I painted the walls with my contaminated timeless love and you, were the only copy of the key opening the locker of that front door.
You were my home.
You still are.
Now, tell me, how do I reacquaintance my homelessness?
