Hairs Been Shorn

Here looking inwards while sitting in wards. Never bored watching bulletins and staring out the window at the billboards with eyes that's been pulled before and my thoughts still talk forth. Still taunted and real torn. My brain is torn. My clothes are worn and I'm worn out like the clothes I've worn since I've been in mourn. If my secrets airborne are my thoughts seabourn and if so are they off a shipboard. Well formed traumas bounce like a springboard. I got to reform from this clipboard message. I'm switchboard pressing like crowns with real thorns because I'm crazy with the devils big horns eating grilled corn with allies in this place where bloods borne Was I still born from a rebirth but stillborn. This stillwater ain't sating my thirst I will burn up until dawn because the sealed doors stay locked and we're locked in like ill thoughts. During storms and full moons my milk pours on the brick floor surface I'm sick and tick bourne and allergic. Staring in the mirror watch the devil rip his horns and dig out big thorns man I'm thirsty and been scorned. A little walk is all what I'd kill for. The risk warns you till morn so spill your guts and tell more to the billboard.