Testi:
Small Brown Bike Our Own Wars

walking, where i have yet to go i'll pay big for this one. facing these things i've yet to see, my eyes won't be the same. for now, there's no way. for

broken glass moves through me, calloused skin falls off of me, i crash to my knees. interiorly i bleed and i cry blood under the sheets. i'm breaking

as far as this winter goes we don't feel the deep snow but it's cold wherever i go, it feels cold wherever i go. the smell of the heater core warms up

convince you. a walk is all that i need; this ambiguity feels like a knife in me. sixteen blocks without any thanks, i feel that i think the cannons and tanks. all of these wars

up and down just to see you smile with a cup of tea. i've seen better days. today i thought about giving up, given up on me, but the comfort still remains