Wet like Seattle
In the sincere sickness of a fermented intention.
Beating our wrists together,
and embracing the swarm.Baby, why did we waste so much time in verse?
Ive frequented this setting for sometime,
The color scheme is just perfect
and the drapes are NEVER drawn.
Spill your intimacy,
suffer your sickness unto me,
The freedom we found in our own filth.
The upholstery never gets stained,
just our reputations do.



3 old applause
