My moon

I miss the nights in where the moon's grimace is spitting silhouettes of twirling scissors upon your naked skin, after the sun's materialistic metaphors have ensued their web. I crave the logophile moon, but im a pawn of the sun.

                         "I slit this hole in the black expanded sky.
                         The rain bleeds out before my jaded eyes."

IVE GOT THESE LAST TWELVE BUCKS TO SPEND ON YOU.

YOU CAN TAKE ME ANYWHERE YOUR SICK MIND WANTS TO.