Frost

Frost. This is all I’m thinking of. My cold blood is dark like sludge, inside of it – water snakes, toads, neglected home, hospital dungeons, naked trees and graveyard silence.

I haven’t imagined complete fadeaway. Desperation has eaten my feelings and sanity. If you fall in love with person’s beauty, you have to realise that it disappears. All you have left to love are ¬†memories with a bitter taste in mouth. Each beautiful blossom slowly turns into stinking pile of shit.

I don’t feel anything, I don’t fear anything. Around I only see daily disintegrating snotty world.

We only got words left, but even words mean nothing to us.

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