

gomma da cancellarei draw inspiration from your stares the ones that kept me up until i couldn't breathe anymore my world became one of ecstasy and exuberance when the lights came ongomma da cancellare
when i wrote down the hours on the sundial my mind wandered around to the night i could feel and i felt all eyes on me how they knelt before my feet and partook in the most envious of ways
king in all meanings of the word, escaping to the one corner of sunshine left
i find myself at the beginning again and again until i can belong in my skin slitting your own throat is just as easy as


tous les morceaux n'ajustenti am abstract in my age with the pins and needles that now occupy my veins i am but a lowly present under your tree unwrap with haste, and your day will be filled with fire wondrous, she is the only thing left standing and i can only make out what the radio saystous les morceaux n'ajustent
swiftly glowing to the harsh moonlight thumps of afterthought make me feel less like a person and more like an idea when they told me i could never see the traverse i said i'd rather choke on the amount of knowledge i possess waiting until the right time to slice rip bones away and tell me what is left of t


run-onbloom into me and make me realize that all the things i thought were gone are still here, periodically reshaping into dust. and it's not going to stop.run-on
sweep me off of my feet and carry me into the great below, that sweltering peril of unattended satisfaction. i long so much to know that you are still alive. in love.
let me off of my leash and run along to the cataclysmic ruins of all that could have been, and then we just might be able to forget exactly what went wrong back in february.
warp me, kill me, and watch me dissolve into everything yo


Popsicle Stickshush the walls are whispering again can you hear it? no mind your mannersPopsicle Sticks
stay astray from the anatomically inferior shred sweet nothings into my ear and watch me melt into the floor boards i want your world to erode beneath your feet
can you write in anything besides stanzas? no, i am afraid not could you at least figure out why they burned the saints? sadly, yes, but you needn't an answer
i want our conversations to be plastic so i can burn them and taste the fumes then, when your father comes home he won't know what we're hi