Stomach Flies

September 19, 2009
By Blusher BRONZE, Chicago, Illinois
Blusher BRONZE, Chicago, Illinois
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

It's a golden stem and a rotten rose.
It's a quiet tornado that spirals down the vacant road.
It's when the blues take over, and I'm left biting my lip.

It's when beauty sleeps and insomnia speaks,
And my heart-shaped battery is running low...
You begin to throw rocks at my window.


The author's comments:
It's mainly about lust and those horrible lonely days.

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