Alone again
its 6am
my nights they seem to have no end
just broken states, dissociate
I wrote the story
then questioned fate

Back to the brick
eyes to the sky
a blood kissed cigarette
the last of the night
the wounds are fresh
but the bugs wont bite
so cold, so still
define alive

I showered in his misery
the glass still in my feet
when he broke that door between us
it was then that I could see..


Painfully perceptive
a moment frozen in time
the irony was bleeding
suppression is a gold mine