Current Residence: The top of an island at the bottom of the world|
Favourite genre of music: Rock n' Roll
3 2 1I made it out of bed, the door,3 2 1 by theodamus
away, even nearly on time
to meet you two
years too late, but I still can't separate you and
Never will, I suppose,
but neither can you.
It should have been then, while
we still had something living to share, before
we had to share anything at all, before
we had to mean something to each other, before
it was only two
And there we were, you and me
Us three, and I don't know what you were
Hospital Wolves.Three times a week, IHospital Wolves. by Self-Intoxication
drug myself into a coma,
to finally get some sleep.
I check myself in officially
as an insomniac who is allergic to
television and wheat. I
check myself in because I
can't make it on time to
day treatment, and I
hate the smell.
In the silence
of music therapy, they force me
to eat trays and trays
My tongue distorts
your black & white hair,
your white collar,
your tears and the way they taste
sliding down your puffy cheeks.
I never could find you
when they finally let us
Samuel Clemmings met me in the
hallway at night, after
lights out, after
I had nothing to give him.
But the clothes on my legs, and
maybe small bottles of hotel
shampoo or secrets like the suicides
that happened on my bed
and on my walls. He tells me,
it is going to be okay, go back
to sleep, and I do.
My musician boyfriend and my mother
call me on the phone, but everyone
has forgotten me.
I am okay with that.