There is something about the whole ordeal. unpleasant, ghastly, gruesome, fearsome, awe-striking, damn fantastic. We turn our head slightly, spitting out a mouthful of crimson onto the sweaty, slippery tarmac.
The taste of blood lingers; awful and yet all-too familiar. We don’t like strong tastes, unless it can be drowned by iced americano. The painful cuts and bruises we've been forced to feel is a sign that we are still alive. We are only human.
“Well, that's a pretty face you got there. What brings you to a fight club?" The flaw in the control we've got over ourselves, the crows that have entirely lost their flightpath. The wings turn to white. We won't stop the fight.
No, it's definitely not love at the first sight. He's more like a stranger in my new fave café in town. A stranger who stopped by to get a cup of take-away coffee, as twilight filled the sky.
Not sure if he liked it bitter or sweet. I couldn't care less but, I wish he was in my dream. A stranger that I was afraid to talk to, but got me curious and set me at ease, yet I was too busy to pay more attention at first.
Suddenly there's also a guilt inside, like souls colliding, wandering looking for love. Then I let myself drown deeper eventually. It's unplanned, it's mystery, it's beautiful. Just let it be.
Such an unfortunate that a good thing has come to an end. That stranger will keep blooming even without me following his journey, but my prayer is. Langit Senja from rascalnoona on 8tracks Radio.