The walk
The crowd...
Bathing in the alluring grace
Of the radiant summer sun...
I’m gonna say
And you’re gonna say if you dig it or you...
Stalking midnights murky grove
Along alien shore quick to roam...
In the woods John
At the wash path...
Flee now sweet princes
Turn thine princely coat...
I have been to Langley
I have seen the white stone crypt...
Through the cracks
She sadly slips...
In his house he is god
A god of pain and flaying...
Beyond oaken facade dark and worn
What monsters conceived and born...
No solace in dark dreams
In sleep there’s just dread...
Feel like I want to write about
A girl who hates her own skin...