space poetry
By if pascoe
the empty in my apartment is thick with lonely and lying dreams instead of counting sheep to try to sleep and see the ocean i should maybe spike in what i think i need and call on miss morphine space poetry and there's nothing wrong there is no pain there is no bad day again so i can’t think i know again that your mental notes noticed me again space poetry she slides like a hot knife, bleeds like a sieve into the veins soothes my brain and eases me into her warm white heaven space poetry Written May 8th, 2002 © on Feb 21 2002 11:42 AM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"the empty in my apartment is thick with lonely and lying dreams..."