November
Sunday 1 August 2010 photo 1/1
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I listen to broken homes at least twice a month.
Endless screams and never ending rein of hurt and accusation
Pain filled shouts fills the halos of the building like cream in a cake
You can almost taste the multiple levels of betrayal with every fucking BANG on the wall
He’s killing her again and again and again
She is IMORALY IMORTAL
And they just won’t leave you alone
Their heads pop out of their bodies and are hunting you thru the day with hurtful words
Like chains of foreign guilt their wheighting you DOWN and choking you.
Air is now a precious luxury and smiling is a chore
Want to see some gore?
Go up stair I dare you.
Can you smel it. Copper filled fumes climbing up the walls leaving trails of red.
So pretty.
It’s raining outside as I’m finely blessed with SILANCE
I let it eat me up.
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