|Current mood:||last night my teeth fell out|
|Current music:||the artist in the ambulance|
i look through these lenses and see you,
through the finger prints and grease.
i look past your smile to the parts you hide,
the tiny parts too weak to release.
with alcohol your words are tragic,
i see the unfortunate pictures that hang on your face.
each as sad as the last; blue, black, red, grey,
crooked, they float, over right angles of stain.
they once hung straight, streaked with whites and green,
off center, off center... ...they scream.