So just hug me, let your arms/Fall perfectly where they belong
Category: Arts & Entertainment
What am I to a cockroach?/Or what is a roach to me?
This is the time when the sun/Descends below the horizon—the ground/Is cool, dry, hearty and beautiful with/Thick golden hairs—of all distant things
My heart hates my soul./My mind hates my spirit./I’m corrupted.
As I stare at the sky I am lost/Though my thoughts are gifted/Hole in my heart/Empty void