White Cane Testo

The spiders that drank us in

Now rotting on our skin

A dusty vacancy lies between you and me

All those nights-polaroid photographs turned white

Sense memory lost like a burial at sea

A model of our love

As shot from high above

With every present tense it loses increments

Six months spent yield only garbage-strewn fragments

Numb endings, all that harsh stimuli smoke rings


Sense memory lost like a burial at sea

Numb endings, all that harsh stimuli smoke rings