I’ve lost the sense of direction again. The wind’s taste is bitter, and my moments slip away. Fridays hold no threat. My name is forgotten. These drugs are never effective enough. Intoxication persists; join if you wish. Autumn lashes with cold winds. I promised to run; you replied that everyone will run away eventually.
I protest red’s burning, blue’s coldness, and yellow’s separation. Living in this neverland is my only choice. Breath is just one word, i take it to survive the remaining sentences.
Leaves on this tree will fall too. If courage wanes, what’s left of me? Long live the one who picked the fruit. I am fresh but laden with rotten. A musician with a silent violin. This land is known for harsh earthquakes—who built our hearts this way? Me or you ?
If you seek light, I’ll shine like the sun. Forbid spring, and I’ll lay bare in winter. Clerics ban touching human flesh, burning naked. Yet, I’d buy every inch of the inferno for the sensation of your breath near mine. Let’s intertwine in execution. Fresh, yet rotten.
This land is known for harsh earthquakes—who built our hearts this way? Me or you ?