My Little Geneva
I walked the seas and swam the deserts searching for words. I have nothing left to say.
Collapsing against my skin; waves turn into droughts that spill into my mind like water used to grow roses once dead. Droughts I cannot comprehend.
Leaving my soul wishing for a love heavy on its shoulders: a love that stains my sheets with shreds of memories running down my cheeks. Stains I cannot fathom.
The slightest touch throws me into a pool of agony and desire.
Looking for a savior in the space above me; “have I gotten familiar with the faded sky or has it gotten accustomed to me?” Stars I cannot grasp, even with my weight resting on my toes.
I call out to a name without a face. Hello, god. Where are you? You’re hiding behind your throne, watching your children die, aren’t you? A god I…
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severely heaven of hell 