I know that blackmirror is still best, hence the false imagery
I know your girl is still beautiful, fold my hands and evaluate the misery
I know your scent still dances underneath the silhouettes of your arm's peak.
I know my hands still scratches through the silver lining of my fingerprints
Out of sight, red is a colour and paint brushes leak still
First of sight, my baby eyes never closed for a young sleep
I only see galaxies when I rub my eyes now, but my touch can undress you
Because I'm now an emergency thinker
I'm now lonely as you are on Twitter
But I've regained my confidence, still stacking these words with my raw ink
But I'm out of luck, ROOM31 but telephone as my head sink
To the underworlds where cognac and realization step out for a link.
It's me and you now, somehow you serve what's best of you and let your eyes never blink
For my teeth in your skin, black on the outside but pink
I can't see but feel, think.
YOU ARE READING
CONSTELLATIONS AWAY FROM REALITY
ПоэзияA self-entitled declaration of unwanted feelings in monochromic sarcasm and jotted down ink.
