sp3ktr:
Day 199 of silver tongue dancing to the beat
of sword blades sliding from a well oiled scabbard. Free your self from
what you said or should have said, all you have is this moment. Enjoy
this and forget the time you were face down in the gutter, your fist
wrapped tightly around a bottle, like it was my neck. I free myself from
all the times you fixed something i had made to perfection, your
passive aggressive way of telling me I failed. Again. Your ghost is no
longer my backseat driver and i am steering this black chariot into
fame, glory riches. Whose ghost do you need to kick to the curb?