Sore throats and gouged out eyes, creasing the book's sleeve. Behind a simpering mask I type nothing, just follow the fingers rhythms and adjust accordingly. Captivate, inspid remarks calculating calico across the windshield, loosen the organs, adjust accordingly. Something strained across the filibuster sky, something according so ghastly it went astray pissing across it's own chest and face, making active lappin' movements. Just praying for warmth. Behind curtains and galleries and glass cases and frames, lays a rotting infant, with lollipops through his eyes. Staring across the void, red rotten soaked up sky, over molten seas, charred trees and cracked earth. Dust showers from all directions, coiling up surrounding debris, tiny twisters gaining momentum. Helpless calico cat, wondering what the hell is going on. It cleans it's fur between sudden alertness. Teetering, geriatric disguise. Intravenous drip, contents sustain. Through the bitter rifle sight of yesterday.
Crafting beautiful stories for you to remember me by.
Turpid miscalculations in the midst of flight.
Weighty wine wings.
Wrenches to the wind.
Crafting beautiful futures for you to remember me by.
Eventually now will all become retrospect and i'll understand exactly how I was meant to explain it.
Any statement too bold.
Watching the things I thought mattered crumble.
Having the things that do, hand me tiny hints, that I so fledglingly stumble to comprehend.
That's not it either.
Crafting beautiful stories for you to remember me by.
Turpid miscalculations in the midst of flight.
Weighty wine wings.
Wrenches to the wind.
Crafting beautiful futures for you to remember me by.
Eventually now will all become retrospect and i'll understand exactly how I was meant to explain it.
Any statement too bold.
Watching the things I thought mattered crumble.
Having the things that do, hand me tiny hints, that I so fledglingly stumble to comprehend.
That's not it either.
illstabyou:
Those pandas are hot!
ringleader:
So I guess we outta be sg friends, huh? Yeah?