Shattered glass tales
of you and of me
of time and of cherished
of lost and at sea.
Like the heart racing onward
you taste mind and hate
to dance upon midnight
declaring I’m late.
Doomed to the faulty
of me being me
wrought in this flesh
and decay to be free.
I’ve loved you too many
these endless shore days
asphyxiate his wave
and declare this wench faze.
Ending, time’s dying
the pebble of shores
and bottles with letters
but now we're just whores.















33 old applause
