It struck like lightning, fire from your eyes, you spoke silent by the time I was to close-minded but we flew and I was lost in your guidance until I stopped trying to get to hug it out and you smiled while juggling lies, confined only by lust you blushed like promised, I touch on these subjects because I must be honest but isn't, its a war and Im indifferent, when in rome you get the pictures and I fill scoreboards with how many closed doors I've kicked in, my soul is on some list but I never got to get in-, I don't go out- so low down that I isn't, we talk about but are so zoned out we don't listen, turn and twist until its a rhythm and burn all things we can think of until the ceiling is black and my drink is filled with ashes. Things move backwards.

I don't know what is missing, every honest thought of pictures given is a forwarded image, glow-sticks flickering and attention drawn like guns, I wanna fuck nuns who don't give and go to war on drugs on pills.