got a bit of the shakes.
a shakeful of fist, a little white crystal.
a hurricane stare for a burnt little crisp, poor soul left to dry without a kiss.
so march henceforth, i confess to a sin
a sick old trooper just lied to me
and dead birds litter the ground beneath
never did they cease to speak, til the picture was drawn
and the glow was blinding
but yeah, i knew they were lying.
the skin grew red in time, face morphed into what it deserved
the shadows of a former self
squashed along with dead birds
pick it up, its alive!
go throw it in the water
i'll bury me before they get the chance
and bide my time godamn
GODAMMNN
i made a plan
should stop making these plans.
(each day is being 'wasted'.)
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