Lost in Translation

Sunken blue, white collar stood in whisper. The lonely girl buried in hungry pages cry for the luxuries of youth. She stands for five and sleeps for none, carried these books like a loaded gun. She fled to the city where the west was won, laid on the floor where the east had gone. Ancient ways are for the dead, customs should be broken. But where the tide meets the shore, her pages were lost in translation.

Shake me, wake me, hit me, fuck me. I just want to feel right now. Pain, if any at all. There's lack of motion here. I'm stagnant longing for a ripple, festering inside my own brew. Humming a tune to carry me out.