The bitter taste of grapefruit, when all I really wanted was a peach.
A chorus of electronics. Humming softly, pulsing, regulating the moment I am to hear that it's over.
I just don't love you anymore.
There's someone else.
The dog ate my phone.
A mr. spell is the harbringer of my downfall.
I just don't feel it anymore.
There's too much going on.
A dark room, exploding in psychodelic sorrowful light. Blues and electric yellows, spiraling orange, signifying nothing but the beat of a tune.
An ambience I can no longer feel.
The rhythm whispers to me. Right next to the tiny hairs on my ear.
Cold. It's always so cold here... and so empty.
Like so many liquor bottles left in the vanishing snow.
I don't know.
I don't know what went wrong.
What I did wrong.
What's wrong with me.
I just know
somehow it's my fault.
I left the oven on too long.
I bumped the soufle'.
I payed for the abortion.
I skipped on the bill.
I got the wrong kind of grapefruit juice.
When all I really wanted was something sweet.
Maybe I'm just whithering away.
Absent of the trinity.
Mind.
Heart.
Body.
Maybe I'm just...
