We use necessary cookies to make the site work. If you accept, Google AdSense may also use advertising cookies. You can accept, reject, or change your mind at any time. Cookies · Privacy
So nauseous pines,
This noxious abyss,
I feed from the milk,
of ultra violet,
Yet I'm lost with you,
My floating twin,
You're the anchor to the drain,
but I am the key,
To nothing.