I’m not an open bookKeep emotions in rusty fortresses.Faded images for the cameraBecomes the real me.I’ve worn the mask so longI no longer recognise myself.To
Day: April 18, 2012
See her across the Bourbon lineStill, whilst the room constantly spins.Eyes look towards the heavensManga stare deflected through the night club mirrors.Neon forms a halo,My
The snow capped mountains stare down in judgementWhispering distain through the cold air.I continue the search for youWithout the necessary mapWithout eyes.Blindly I follow the
Vertical, not horizontal.This is no cry for help,It’s extinction.