Wishing for Whiskey

Scars of repulsive angst appear.
In trails turning sour with hatred of oneself.
Eaten alive by scavengers and left to live as a walking cadaver.
Flesh is spoilt. Bones are rotten. Mind is mush. Love in death.

I sit here with these sensations and wish for whiskey.
RosaElaPilarGoens RosaElaPilarGoens
18-21, F
1 Response Sep 1, 2014

You see, this is why atheism is still around. Kids just want to get drunk and they all just lose their memories.

Of course, I am the spokesperson of "kids" of the world Earth. Stop giving us processed foods and chemically treated water for we want pure alcohol.