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Our Sunday Affairs
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Oilhead
hide out in reliquary shells
collecting dust and turtle bones
because i can because i want to
because there's no one around to tell me not to
i wanted pretty scenes of pastel fish
in lilly-padded lake
not this inky nothingness
taking up its place
this feels like my organs have been hiding
in atonement i see them cheering spitefully
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so spirits come to rest on shoulders
with thoughts of life, chaos, and order
even apples had imperfections
but they didnt waste time staring at reflections
of the things that weren't and what was never real
it was only there to give you something to feel
'dont think for a second that youre alone in this'
but i am i am i am
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