in the canvas of the whites of my eye
aaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww!not alone,she waits with so many with herand the rememberancescarries her with the smellthat momemtarily risesonly to paint the nostalgic nightswhere bodies forego the boundariesand what remainsare drops of rainonthe mud floor
was gonna post something which had pretensions of being a poem ...will of course not now
hey come on
it's amazing how pain creates the best poets out of people...i've written a few already...but seems to personal to share over the blog. people will see how easily i hurt and how much a person could mean to me...they wouldn't believe it cause almost nobody bleeds as deep as me.
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