joi, 19 august 2010
I feel the words in my head preparing for battle:
which ones to exist first,
which ones to fully burst,
which ones to subjugate my lust...
But nothing clots,it's all an emotional mess-
And it feel more and more like nothing can save me
Like a poisoned cocktail of
from life's songs,
that's how the message found my glass.
Drank I too fast?Missed I the tune?
I'm alone and weak and I'm not made of
I'm trying to find any shred of emotion left inside my hallow carcase of a soul:
I have no heir to give birth to;
I have a cobwebbed womb;
I am barren.