back home.

jueves, 1 de septiembre de 2011
"I grab your memory with aching hands.
Overwhelmed by time and upcoming pain.

Found myself seeking for your neck at night,
and looking at the vacuum in my chest,

I left the train like a wounded dog,
with tears in my mind and unwritten words.

I wonder if what I feel
are broken bottles in my soul.
Or just the weight of
broken hearts of shattered casualties.
Both are just some glass-remnants
that peel my foundations.
Both fortell my fall."

Seems like we're both way too young to die.

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