Memories that smell like gasoline

Out of the red

Waist down

skirt around

and flirt the hurt down

Paste it onto

an album
that plays around

An old familiar sound

The Torn down pages
of a beat down life
that can’t be found

Many In the streets
Fake the funk
full of junk
to fill you up
With make believe
as they Make it up
bitterSweet Buttercup
Sell yourself

short

As someome else
Churn it in
And turn it into
Anything else
Anything other than truth

weeping at your face

I can’t replace

What is now long gone

Waves of static
Take the place

And stretches the space

That lies
Between me and you

SaveSave

Author: b-side junkie

artist/designer, music lover, b-side junkie, writer, bartender, animal lover..."feelist"... Mad mime View all posts by b-side junkie