we made an invisible bold line between our eyes,
bold enough to pull us closer, bold enough to protect us from each other,
in this case, protection means a closed door, a night without a moon, a sun without it’s pride, a wrath cloud, a grey,
she painted a colorless rainbow upon her lips, bitter sweet, tastes like a musty sugar￼.
“oh, this is how i look everytime i smile” said a girl to a mirror.
“disgusting” the mirror mumbled quietly
“i heard that, bollocks. thats why i never smile”
“no, its disgusting because you buried yourself in that Guerlaine”
“i dont get it, even a mirror could be a gip” she jabbered.
“dark, too dark”
the pain is real, too real for her
hard to hold, but its the only rope to keep her sane.
“she is mad, i’m afraid”
she got to bury the hetchet, before she bury herself.
its okay, at least she’s alive.
she looks fine, i guess.
That bee-stung linger in my head, so do the sparks of your sphericals
It was a peerless stint
The thing that could kill me yet made me feel alive.
The kind of sad that could drive me so happy to feel it.
Mångata stays there on a daylight,
Shrink back from her own howl,
Wait for her one and only,
Squab myself to a mine
A mine full of golden spine
Not really sure,
Was it because the shade or purely i love the spine
No time to sheave now, I’m all punctured by my own mine.