Friday, July 2, 2010

Long lost.

Choking on my cigarettes,
I want to be the ash that burns my throat.
The wind calls my name,
But I ignore it.

That wind that whispers my name is dangerous,
It wants my self destruction; My end.
I can't go,
I won't.

Nothing but lonely men with lonely hearts,
secret desires who can't be trusted alone.
Lost girls with blood on their ankles,
Bruises where tenderness used to lay.

Russian vodka shot by shot,
Wandering down dark highways.
It's only a matter of time,
Before I follow that wind.

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