Dominic Riccitello
May 26, 2020

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i’m slipping on lies of your mind your tongue tastes like cheap wine on a cold night and i’m tangoing in thought in a dark room with cold pictures twirling your fingers like your spine against mine it takes to breathe it creeps to see your eyes turn to ease my knees seem to buckle for thee and i hate to tell you how much i cold sin for you the shadows play in tongues at night your neck breaks like midnight and i’m swaying in the background in a dark twisted picture this mirrors seem to frost this is what hell feels like and i take to breathe i became to be i sin for thee i bask to be under seemingly my mood twists in night i wish this was in hindsight  the colors changing the lines are moving is this even real am i even here i bask for the hell of it