"But there are lots like us, with no grave but the stage."

Monday, June 28, 2010

into it. over it.

I've finally washed my hands and head clean of these songs. They crawled and suffered to get out, but were finally exhaled.

Empty lungs and raw throats, familiar fists and pupils.

The thrill was there, but the skin was empty. The same bones, now drained of adrenaline.

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