All of these begin the same, and this will be no different.
There's a repetitive cotton cloud in my nose, pushing deeper, begging for my brain, holding my breath hostage and siphoning sleep out of my blood.
There's a film of plastic sweat covering my skin, stretching over my head while my eyes make frantic motions and fragile eyelashes bend and break against the hazy air.
This sleepy green syrup is plugged straight into my sockets, and I inhale apathy mixed with sluggish sickness while I exhale pure lucidity and a crippling craving for your skin.
No comments:
Post a Comment