Ride Or Die, Baby

Ride Or Die, Baby

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In And Over Losing Ourselves

In And Over Losing Ourselves

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My soul is the bottle dripping, succumber liquid gaining temper'ture Can't find no obvious holes nowhere; no breaks, no sights in fissure, And in its featurelessness and failure, its efficiency raised tenfold before But I have no use now for broken things rotting and ruining my kitchen table Should it join the bag, all black and dirty? Tell if you, too, should you find tape Maybe it's not too late yet, for my sanity's sake, I hope it's not too late My turf, my rules, my killing I'm a describable indistinguishable dark soul, only desperate for the more desperate To dominate and forclose ...Read more

play catch up

play catch up

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For someone who says he never puts importance to the past, I sure as hell am spending all my little coins clinging to it. Rehashes of trauma, merry-go-rounds and go-get-happies, go-get-betters, And drowning unsuspecting rooms under tub light of my disgraced charm. That's because I'm a manic pixie dream gay, –Y'know, like, in the movies, Maybe we hit up, and we have A blast of a time and for the times, and you think That I perhaps realigned or redefined your insights and in-flights, and inside The low-ceilinged hipster club you hang at, your friends start talking about me Really coo ...Read more

 
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