SYNESTHESIA

In between the mundane seconds of a yellow Sunday afternoon and the stale poppies melting on my ill windowsill I hear your grey voice rushing in sea waves Echoing in my brain's camphoraceous caves Conquering my body like it's a war zone fighting for my sanity And the faces of your face are rip-offs clinging …

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(THIS HEART) A MASSIVE BUBBLE

I cry for the moon, when the clouds suffocate her I cry for the sun, when she fails to ignite a fire I cry for the stars, when they continue to shine for us even when they're dead I cry for oxygen, when she's taken for granted I cry for earth, when they said she's …