Poetry Blog by The Black Bile (The Ravenflocks)

All These People In My House
And No One Sees Them But Me.
Some Are Real, Some Are Ghosts,
But All Are Misleading.
And When She Talks,
It Thunders.
Evil’s Not One Of Her Names,
Just Another Hopeless Romantic.
We Can Keep This Going, Baby,
Every, Single Day.
Like Saving My Cigarette
‘Till I Go To Bed.
The More I Notice Myself,
The Less I Can Breath.
The More I Tell Myself,
The Less ...

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