heraldingchaz
Warning, waiting, wasting. Time is not written in a red bordered sign. We're on our own, a world without direction. A world void of perfection. No man to marshall us across the street, no luminous jackets, nothing discreet. Warned, washed away, to another lonely day. Never anything to say..
Oh your salty curves make my lips tingle and my mouth water. But alas, on the side of the world, you don't feature as part of street vendor's offerings. I can't buy the real you, only your dried, crunchy, bagged friend. It's a pretzel despair over here..
Domestic. You call this domestic abuse? It's obtuse. Being stuck in this box of life is domesticated, going round and round and round like a hamster on a wheel. It smells in here too; has anyone else noticed that? Smells rank. Least I can see through these bars, I feel wild in my mind..
Oh here I am again, stuck in this domestic prison. Like a hamster in a cage, but being domesticated, domesticated, domesticated. Frustrated. Alienated. I don't want to run round and round and round on this stupid fucking wheel.. And it smells rank in here. Who wants domestic bliss when you can be wild!?
All my dreams, that's what's forgotten. All the thoughts, processes, loves and lives, that end up under a torrent of overwhelming sea, flume and spume, choked until they no longer exist. And then it all sinks, right down to the base, the bed of the sea, where it lays forgotten in a menagerie..