donate to ya boy

Monday, March 30, 2015

in a dimmly lit basment

which smells of tea tree

I peace together an evening

nod off under this canopy peacefully

she comes to me

somewhere inbetween dreaming & sleep

it reaches deep within me

brings me up the stairscase to the pit patter of sleet

my veins slowly creese

each & everyword just has so much more meaning

& I think a picnic in the graveyard would be lovely

the same way I think about itd be so freeing...

I have so much left to create before that evening

every event so seemingly haunting

taunting my very if testing my being

Im left here breathing

sighs of relief

signs of the time

sign of the beast

line after line after line.

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