cant spread the news

so the day passes and i am aged and empty like the last drops in a bottle of wine that no one wants to look desperate enough to suck at. you manage to weasel in when you are most hated and slide through the floor boards as soon as you're desired. i am begging of the clouds or the grass or the sand, let it be done. i am ready for the new. introductions are well overdue. just dig out the last of the shrapnel from my bloody disheveled back, and drop it into his bag. i am ready to accept a feeling or a word.


shouldbetwin


truest


life on blur