Lletres:
Idy

I like the way that my shirt smells when it?s been in your embrace. And I dig the way that my hand feels when yours keeps it company. Under these overcast

Her wrists bleed, for the attention. I sit back and watch with discretion at this old film that I shot in wide-screen, and in Hi-Def, but just for the

Crumple up these dirty leaves. I'm getting too high to breathe. And as I'm clutching lines in the street, she just keeps text messaging me. You don't

Does she have the fever, coursing through her veins? It?s changing her demeanor, makes her ?Supa? crazy. Flailing her arms about a crowded scene dancing

I fell asleep last night waiting for your phone call, and woke up to the sun?s morning kiss with my wall, and an imprint in my cheek from all my cell

Rose petals are falling, crimson and cinnamon in color and texture. These veins aren?t so skilled at holding their water, arteries pumping dust into

You better brace yourself cause the word is ?action.? Just know you?ve inspired this vernacular. A broken record is spinning in circles, adding dramatics

Can?t you see the sky is falling, as these porcelain clouds dismantle into shards of our affection, and raining our secret scandal? With a photo inside

Thinking of an age old dream, places I have never seen, Fantasies lived times before. I split my brain, melt through the floor. Over clouds my mind will