The diamond paper I used to make my cigarettes from is gone.
The dip dip beat sound you carry with a flawless retrospectiveness, an unknown desire of knowledge patiently accomplished by years.
My darkness should never be shown to your persona, just in case the fear and loathing tear you down.
My hair flows through the wind like snails in the water, fluently, caressing the oxygen you breathe as if it was feeding that broken and baroque soul you have.
I have always had an intrinsical perception for lost & wild souls. Would I ever stop linking together my own soul to the world? My mind says yes, my heart says no.
I walk across the streets smiling; time weaved for me a beautiful and chameleonic shell. As time passes by, an astonishing effect started to attract people. They would stick to me in the disgusting way bees get trapped when flying too near from the honey. Can’t they see they sicken me?
The pure souls my tortured heart marks out are not enough.
The dark fantasies my body betrayed are not enough.
The thrusts my inside has suffered are not enough.
It is never enough.
The tears fall down like the chrysalis blooming in summer. Everything becomes grey, so does my love thirsty shading soul.