Crumpling my heart
made of torn paper
A hand folded prayer wise
A girl dancing in cages.
Grace is just broken glass laid on the desk with folders and documents
So that the secretaries and CEOs can fuck on a bed of deprivation.
A nice drive down an alley
So many business propositions
So much nothing
I can’t see through clean windows.
I love sickness worn like a halo
You will bury even the best intentions,
with an erasing so strong you’ll look twice in the mirror.
