So these are wandering hours again. I've come to
with a lead chest and head dregs, washed up and hollowing out another day. Then catch a thought and pull lungs taut on the wind; snag a shoestring heart hanging by a thread. Breathe in and reel as if the rotary was snatched up in a gale.
Hot air smelts and keens with a view to building internal frameworks; monuments of a future self. For the longest I've had the sun climbing my throat and left the room without saying a word.
supported by 14 fans who also own “Nothing Has Changed In Years”
A rollercoaster of rage-crying emotion sure to send you over the edge if you're not careful. Gotta love Old Gray and all the emo ragers they write for us. Mikey