Indecencies of mindless indulgence
Thoughts that bury me alive.
Why cant I separate my self allowance
From the feelings situated here inside.
It's a yellow pushpin in my finger
Deep enough to break the skin.
It's the last drop of the liquor
In this bottle spent on lack of sin.
It's the hole inside, Its all my mind.
I just want substance to fill it.
It will heal in time, Pass me by
Such a lie that not even I can believe it.
Just some mindless writing . . . . .insomnia does things to you .. .
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
and at the end, I dont know if you did it on purpose or not
but it seems to stop right when you say "not even"
I could not continue to the next words ...
it seemed like you said THE END but is it...
Let me know..I'm a fan and I am curious if you will let me know