Trapped in this house, driving me past the point of no return of this crazy thing called solitaire, which derives every inch of insanity buried in me. This house! Oh, no! It never dies even in the still of the night when owl’s and bat’s make merry, the sanctuary still breathes!
I wish I could speak of a basement, where I could cuddle myself into the arms of the devils lil plan, this lil’ shit creeps into my dreams at times even when its\’s got more than a lil opposition. Strangers speak from styro-foam boxes, voices peep through the lil holes of cigarette butts and emty glasses with traits of vodka, the cracks of sorrow just gape showing their fucking thirty two teeth.
I need a movement, a moment; fuck this shit – I don’t know what I want. I’m just a little confused over protective lil’ baby waiting to pee his pants at any given moment – that would in all probability be my moment. I wish I could see the acid in the rains, atleats I won’t be this lifeless lil’ shit that I am. I wish the horizons calm down and dont hurt me, stimulants and toxins keep me there; I still like that feeling, that escape – after so many years!
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