...And all that was left of our triumphs was the artful array of beer cans and cigarette buds. Our hearts, souls, and voices let out to fly only to fall like the ashes of your last cigarette. cold and disregarded. in turn leaving us empty, only craving more...
wrote this out of pure randomness saturday night.
inspired by the forgotten trash of macons teenage generation.
georgias finest.
it felt better that night.
No comments:
Post a Comment