Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Replay Me

Level with the transcribed "middle" an anguish so hateful settles to become an exotic feeling of death. As if, the graves had brought every atom of soil to make my ribs one. Intertwined. And I wished upon the blinds that filtered the rising sun for the DJ to accidentally press 'rewind', and though everyone would groan in annoyance, I'd have a chance to replay myself.

No comments:

Post a Comment