deepundergroundpoetry.com
Strangers
In a getaway from thoughts
that prey on my flesh
in the form of strangers
for my cigarettes
with a bouquet of decayed scents
and decapitation blues
absinthes make the veins grow harder
that prey on my flesh
I'm sick . . . I'm faint . . . I'm going mad. . . .
oh, please take me away . . .
smelling like cigarettes
that prey on my flesh
in the form of strangers
for my cigarettes
with a bouquet of decayed scents
and decapitation blues
absinthes make the veins grow harder
that prey on my flesh
I'm sick . . . I'm faint . . . I'm going mad. . . .
oh, please take me away . . .
smelling like cigarettes
Published 24th Sep 2024
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24th Sep 2024 7:15pm
24th Sep 2024 7:16pm
