headwire

Because it doesn't matter any more that every time I hear "cavern" I think of you and I in a parking lot so far from home holding on against a fucked up world of riots and emptiness and feeling unwanted. Because distance grows unsown in miles or words or action it's a habitual weed I really don't need but keep coming back to one of the many that choke pretty flowers thriving on the chaos and confusion that fertilize my head guess it'll be another slighted harvest. Because this life of mine's no storybook though I can speak for lust seems like nothing's pure these days not even the drugs we take looks like everything's cut