Category: Scribble｜冥想

  • Secret Parade

    My heart held a funeral for youwhen I wasn’t lookingWithin the whistling, overgrown garden of trees of eyes and I close my eyes one by one by oneto not see your pained pacing back and forthstir-crazy in hostagepaining us bothYet I grew a garden for you smell your sick selfI refused toI let you waste

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  • Stage Note

    I’d like to wear a yellow shirt not spandex just cotton I’ll be wearing a fuscha lip color a color like not like I will be holding a bat not a gun smashing the stage like Pippaloti

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  • Raindrops 3/28/2016

    Pitter-patter Fallen, wet souls Tapping my shoulder Screaming my name on the window Who’s out there howling, Slowly turning insane?

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