It's a gorgeous disease and she was looking at me with a glass brain shattered waiting Her dirty hands bleeding growing anorexic by the minute Let me baptize her with the blood of my sin
She has the complexion of God mapping out the stars on the mirror moving mountain ranges and cuts that catch her as she falls. She fills her empty world with the promise of happiness
Hold tight your crucifix The gift of comfort of normality. And sharpen it to a point that stabs the deviant friend who ripped the nails from his palms and got drunk off the blood.
The eyes of a dog who is beaten by his master over and over again while coming back for more love forgiven, and forgotten daily. God's number is irrelevant