it's probably raining in Birmingham.
got to be up at five for the train.
the moving tomb, the iron husk
of some evil metal demon
smashed, want this high to last the rest of my life.
caught myself wanting to die again.
going to push too far and keep going until i...
falling through your portal
landing on a quiet cold country road
i don’t know you, but you talk
about words - and for now i listen.