Bitter smiles, caving into bitter smiles, caving into
Bitter smiles, caving into bitter smiles, craving sinthrough
little smiles and I’m tired or I’m hollow, then.
Love, hate. Relations end.
Hungover. Staring at your bare hands.
Are these my bare hands?
These are my bare hands.
I hate my bare hands because no one see’s my bare hands.
I can’t speak, I need to find a cure.
Willow is here from Australia.
We walk around in the cooller air.
We haunt the places I have haunted alone.
She breaths the same serenity that would fuel my lungs.
We are connected as souls often are.
Yet it seems strange and surreal.
It would be as if all your dreams had come true.
Kettering - The Antlers.
A crimson-breasted bird massacres the sweet leaves. Black wings..
Tonight we will explore the stars some more.
I feel a change in me. It doesn’t include all of this softness.
I have some sort of herringbone structure rising up inside.
It says ‘Fuck the world, somehow’ because everything isn’t perfect and you need to stand up for your corner.
She is love
she is light
she is adventure