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I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.

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Call Mess Myself Poetry

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Poem Talk Voice Yourself
I liked her simplicity. She wanted coffee and orgasms.
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Lets die. Alone. Like we always do.
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Break Up Heart Herself Summer
We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.
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Beautiful Dreams God Monster
It’s funny how love fades, and they become more than a poem about yesterday.
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Fade Love Past Poem
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Beautiful Collection Flaw Herself
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Death Fast Fly Live Love
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Couple Love Myself Relationship Summer

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