With windows draped in blood. With walls papered with the skins of innocent victims. I want anguish and anticipation awaiting me in every corridor. I want doors that slam in the face of oppurtunity. And walls that are built around me to keep me free. I want a patio equipped with parasols of deception. Soils that seeth the rebirth of self destruction. I want plumbing that streams heartbreak and pain through each and every cavity. I want a library of books without substance or prupose. No wisdom to provide. This is my want; my passion. My preliminary notion...that with dreams like these-what can possibly go wrong?
Enough's enough to know you never really had enough.
Comments 3
With windows draped in blood.
With walls papered with the skins of innocent victims.
I want anguish and anticipation awaiting me in every corridor.
I want doors that slam in the face of oppurtunity.
And walls that are built around me to keep me free.
I want a patio equipped with parasols of deception.
Soils that seeth the rebirth of self destruction.
I want plumbing that streams heartbreak and pain through each and every cavity.
I want a library of books without substance or prupose.
No wisdom to provide.
This is my want; my passion.
My preliminary notion...that with dreams like these-what can possibly go wrong?
Enough's enough to know you never really had enough.
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