There is a lurking thought somewhere plastered to my skull where thoughts come in neat little rows and leave like bullets ricocheting off everything. A bright blue sky turns grey in a blink of an eye. Dust turns to stars. It’s a place filled with liars. Where thieves rule like kings all around the city. Paper hard as rock. Where time ticks down instead of up. This is a creative space. Where words flow like roll call. Where spines are all showing, white bones exposed to the world. Everything causes someone pain.
'People speak the truth,' they say, when all I hear is lies. Some happiness fades. When days go in reverse, black is all I can fell. I know I could be happy when ashes fall like snow. When colors fade and the disease of fear spreads like wild fire. Erase what I believe and think—it is not worth it. Tears of fear, lies of ties.