the ill-Love writing Jones.

Written: March 27, 2008 @ 11:52pm

I think i'm losing my taste, i'm not feening for it,
it's sweetness becomes sour to the tip of the tongue.

I think i'm losing my sense of smell, i'm immune to it's essence,
it's aroma becomes so blandly unpleasant.

I think i'm losing my sight of seeing, i'm becoming blind to it's path,
it's clearly laid out plan to see begins to blur right in front of me.

I think i'm losing my feeling, i'm becoming numb to it's touch,
it's softness against my skin becomes ever so rough.

I think i'm losing my ability to hear, i'm becoming deaf to it's reasons,
it's loud piercing through my ears becomes quite passive.

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So emo. Hahah. Ehh well, i hate tom. It's always the time of the month where I think too much ahaha. Anyway, brownie points for you if you know who or what im talking about in this poem...=]

xoxo,

Kristine