pip

I have fallen from instinctive grace a lame excuse for shameful games, fame is your trophy I lay slain, vied myself between fury and fortitude distinctions cut with unconditional magnitude the only solitude I wished for was inside your arms heart beats in situ I remember your eyes were my i’s how are you today is the medication working I’ll be here always you’re the closest person to me cuddles and love however I want to settle into society blood lust for dust cloak and dagger hidden in some kind of rot, ten for honesty in your hand my heart you crush you fall in a rush in an attempt to hush up my spine denying that it was nothing that was at all divined it’s unacceptable however communed electronically when you thought I shut the door and when I attempt to call you out suddenly I’m a broken metaphor but for the record, the cord has been cut you have dismantled me with distance, a distant peripheral superficial belligerent I was angel incarnate protection and hugs now I am Satan shot to pieces with splintered slugs

ink is free, so...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s