Bread for Sleep

http://vocaroo.com/i/s09fg7MABTQ4

Stale face like smoked yellow teeth,
breaking on music for cold feet,
I know the way ain’t yours here
you are dead.

I wanna pass out or drink and stay,
I am not gay or even happy about this,
the torture of the mirror thorns
my itching head.

Soon I slap my hand away from here,
dreaming down a light switch,
a bitching stare at my corn
with you instead.

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Author: leeethomas

Visual Artist, musician and writer from Australia. Interested in Love and the Mind.

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