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04-15-2008, 10:32 PM
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Groupie
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: Canada
Posts: 31
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squeeze that solo out of me.
We're all living with a ghost.
Him with her - in the room she died in. You with them - breathing their last in your arms. In your arms. Her with I. Reading bedtime stories to calm me. "Smells like" ****ing "teen spirit" in here, he says a few more days. I say. Agony. Who am I in love with anymore? Myself? Or the idea? Distortion confuses me, it's all I can hear. I can't see straight. The water hits me like icicles. I feel pierced all over. My skin is bleeding. All over your shirt. All over your life. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It just happens. |
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