The feeling of vomit is all that i know.
Since every time I see you my heart turns to mold;
Green slime that slivers and quivers.
Pounds and pounds against my beat down chest.
My armor is faulty and I am no smith.
To make more would kill me, to not would make me split
Into half's of a second man, one which doesn't know you.
Maybe that is all for the better but I couldn't ever forget you,
Nor would I want too; I need what you've given me,
For what it gave me was love;
And unexpected as it was came all most inevitably...
Just how it left me.
Left me soon and left me quick, now I'm resorted to this shell of a boy;
One who writes to save his soul.
To let everyone know what it feels to slowly die and drift away,
As though I was a piece of drift wood in a slow tide which binds me to the power of the wind.
And the wind is warm and red.