I’ve been there before, chasing the paint as it falls to the goddamn floor. It all keeps reminding me. It’s all gold, hanging on to every bit of breath that I have saved. I’m begging to feel it change the way that I speak, to say the least. So haunt me why don’t you, haunt me? From what I know things have to freeze every time it snows outside. So keep haunting me to feel alive. Daughters to mothers, fathers and sons. Is it fair to assume that I’m the only one? I’ve tried to make sense of it all, when everything is getting larger the more I fall. Nothing gold. Nothings gold. Nothing at all
