novocain.d nights lip-locked with the un.believable
and a taste of delusion.

chapped lips- and the reality of dreams creating paradise

with undersold emotions. and overused imagination- life is so fucked up
in that way that makes it so beautiful
and the rain never seems to stop falling when the sun comes out.

a trivial piece to an even more- unimportant puzzle. it sometimes seems
tack.d together with a promise of forever- and negligence
pick.pocket-ed and misplaced among the catacombs of denial.
this melancholy absence-formed liaison- pierces
and tomorrow seems like such a lie
but please do. tell it to me again.

with a broken-angled smile. and a trigger.happy- vendetta
the skies are much too distant to be anything more than dust

and the stars don’t shine at midnight- like they used to
with a half-burnt cigarette. and a story to tell
this will always be my life

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