forbidden city

[deadbeachdad]

walkin under the train tracks dont know if its dark or we're just too drunk to see our faces smack the ground falling with pants around our knees, dirt smears with blood on cheeks so pink,
flannel punk stinks of honesty and breweries, staving off creeping lonliness, friends sneak up while we slip a kiss back and forth. when tounges are not flesh and water is not wine, its good to know some are still sweet, and promise to hate when one cheats, dining on thoughts, i can't clean off my plate