Died in a middle of our conversation drifting off into some place I can’t explain to you so I will draw this picture of it.
Vertical where there use to be a horizon in its place as buildings are built upside down from the deepest depths of space and into the surface of the ground.
Vessels run from outside in and there I go again speaking nonsense, I would speak as a victim of bad romance,
but honestly I have been the bad man hiding in the dark writing my sorrows with a bic ink pen. Lightning the paper on fire in burning passion of my heart.
Vaguely I speak, but profound I write myself in stories and sequences of me being the villain doing great deeds for me.
Pride not so strong so I guess I am just another lonely lost man in a dusty situation.