bloodred glass
ah, i don't feel good at all. this fucking cold is driving me crazy. i'm coughing all the time, and i can't breath. kill me, please? and it's so fucking hot in here. gaah. like 30 degrees celsius. hot hot hot! anni is hot too. like whoa. i wrote a song/poem thingy last night before i fell asleep. mupp, not very good. but i'll write more on it and stuff sometime. anyways, tell me know what you think...
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the smell of overprotectness
is filling the room from floor to roof.
when those words fight their way out of your mouth
my world turns upsidedown, again,
like so many times before.
i feel like writing the word pain on my body
with a piece of glass from that vase
i wish i could throw in your head.
and then paint the walls with the blood,
leave a message to let you know the truth.
i hate you.
i just want to run away to the other side
where the grass seems so much greener.
everytime those razorsharp words reach my ears
they start to bleed the blood of pain
like a waterfall, the blood races down my body.
i wanna dry the waterfall out
and the only way is using that towel over there.
the one with the magical name Anni written on it
with gothic black letters.
i need her as much as i need air to breath
as much as an emokid needs his tears
as much as a punkrockdude needs his guitar
and hopefully as much as she needs me
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lately i've been feeling dead inside, like my guts have dried up and died.