soft young mess

I am a soft young mess, screaming shards through painted green water. Let genius be vividly wasted, free and empty, (i'm) drugged (i'm) on blue

Mon Oct 3
home

i want to fit

i’ve got to get into it

don’t make no sense to hide behind anything

oh how these precious things, their time is wearing thin

i’d make a mold of me, to make a mockery

another scar to emphasize who you are

a second skin- a label i might’ve been

let a little for all

i feel all alone

i’d like to get a little gone