sheet

in the room full of broken
bottles, insomnia, ripped blue jeans,
your bloody useless countless sheets

full of movies held on endless repeat
cheep vine and expensive vodka
in the room where my letters
are written on your pale skin
scattered on the fragile floor

in the room full of chaos i swear
which is full of you full of you full of you

i feel that i'm full of
full of love full of vine full of truth
which is useless and totally ripped
which is useful and totally bright

and i feel i don't need to explain
anything anymore anywhere


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