Tuesday, 10 January 2012

044; Like little flowers.

I want nebulae and little flowers on my skin, poison in my veins, aurora-like sleep, beautiful disaster, but there are no more "you're too good for that" and "promise you won't" and I think it's driving me off the edge, far off, I'm free-falling, can't you see? no one's there to catch me and I hope that the waves will carry me away and let me become a part of nature, those dull blues and grays, I dissolve into the air like a rain cloud. (from an old journal)

I don't want to sleep alone any more.

No comments:

Post a Comment