doofqueen
Bluelighter
Stuffed full yet empty.
Exposed but no one sees.
A beating heart feels like the banging of a tribal gathering.
When visions aline with thoughts,
memories become tangent.
The throat burns up,
yet theres nothing to choke on.
Desires are steaming hot.
The stickiness of obsession,
drizzles out like maple in spring.
Catching a deep breath feels obsolete.
Like a monster train,
running its deathly horn loudly,
through the middle of a small town.
You can't pretend it's not passing through.
The tracks squeal for miles,
even when it's crossed lines.
You can't cross the street,
until it's gone
And the wind is whispering once more.
Exposed but no one sees.
A beating heart feels like the banging of a tribal gathering.
When visions aline with thoughts,
memories become tangent.
The throat burns up,
yet theres nothing to choke on.
Desires are steaming hot.
The stickiness of obsession,
drizzles out like maple in spring.
Catching a deep breath feels obsolete.
Like a monster train,
running its deathly horn loudly,
through the middle of a small town.
You can't pretend it's not passing through.
The tracks squeal for miles,
even when it's crossed lines.
You can't cross the street,
until it's gone
And the wind is whispering once more.
