time bomb.

it's ticking
and it's going to explode

soon, i will be pieces

with some of them gone

--which you steal

and some will bleed

and one will be dead

again.

despair in pink

i keep your shrine,
wearing rosy-colored,
heart-shaped glasses.
psychotic, people say.

oh well.

i think it's love.

gray

this melting lump inside the head
tells that i forget
the attached bleeding part
beats that i don't



So who's lying?