Walking on these
Floors of blood and paint
That kind of surface we belong to
We're the quaint and quintessential people
That want this kind of out of body
So indefinite unrealism
Love we call it,
Fending off the night and lonelyness
for a moment so it seems
Welcoming the dizzying reality
of These floors of blood and paint
Blindly we Objectify the hurt and laughter
with a speckled coat of something
that isnt drying any faster
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