sábado, 9 de fevereiro de 2013

Soma

I want details in my face, the details of pain and rush cold days from old memories. I don't want tears in your face, I want stretch marks from a present past that I never met and I never saw. I want blood covering your back, my back. I want to pain to come and not sadness, pain is hate and riot all over my head, your head.
I don't want to scream, I just want silence, cold bloody silence when flashes of hate spills your mind and opens your throat.
An open chest, an open chest next to mine without playing, I don't want to play, do not play, do not play with me. Just don't play, I don't like your false smile, your happy face crushing my open rage, I'm open to your rage.