Sad Labels:
clarity
It's mine. Not yours. It's mine. All you can is take the piss of it. Dirty girls flirting with the toilets in their heads. Kissing so much shit searching for happy endings.
It's mine. No one else's. They crawl inside my discarded skins. Reluctant viruses foul the world with the enthusiasm of their sickness.
It's stolen. Identity is gone. And no one wants to save it. It's mine, but now it's yours. I consult the oracles and find no rescourse. It's mine, but it's not. My words strobe to take the photographs of unnamed hearts. My life sickened by the motives of thieves. My words taken. Controlled by people they don't belong to.
Chse me on sterile wings of solitude. So empty that I can fill you.
This is so powerful. Which means, YOU are the power source. And she is nothing but a parasite. She is nothing.
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