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	Wildly Independent Sun Things straight from my mind. You don't need to like it.


Head throbs Heart stalls Ink will pour from your fingers Don’t stop Don’t stop You’ve already begun to cease. Stomach clenches Throat swells Blood will retract into your heart Backwards Backwards Will I get young? Hair falls Lips thin Demons will stare back at you in the mirror Feo Feo Their foreign whispers lure you in. What head? What heart? What stomach? What throat? What hair? What lips? There’s nothing there You’re gone. helia laverick Eletricolour · Mon Mar 30, 2009 @ 11:10pm · 0 Comments


Eletricolour Community Member «Prev \| Next» Archive \| Home [04/19/09 06:35am] [04/06/09 03:17am] [03/31/09 11:38pm] [03/31/09 07:52pm] [03/30/09 11:10pm] [03/29/09 04:51am] [03/29/09 04:46am] [03/29/09 04:44am]

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