Sometimes being with you just kills me and i hurt i hurt like a miserable little bitch and i bruise i bruise like i want to like i scream inside scream as loudly as i can and i know you will still go and i know its just a big fat drama inside your twisted little head wish i could touch you that deep and sprinkle a little salt over it


**
you came and you left and it hardly makes a difference and so i tell myself i hate how you are and i want to believe that your profundity is a lie your face is a lie

 i can run around and fall and scrape my knees, but doesn't count, as i am scared of the fresh, red wound being a mere lie. And maybe i'll need you to accept it, and you won't. A phantom shifting ache frightens me to tears and i am gladly a misanthrope. i want rum and coke, and Radiohead on loop, and a soul sister on my knee.

do you really need a few fucks to feel transcendental? Isn't it okay to indulge in paranoia? Can you really not create if you are in love with one person/ is the ideal one person one universe concept merely stupid and utopian? What happens when your little world gets all fucked up?

you pissed me off, my darling. Because you are behaving like a de-skinned chicken left to wander on the streets, but on the contrary, you should be really happy and excited that life is being charming to you, doors are being opened for you, and the sky is a bright bright blue.Count your blessings, and count your fingertips.

I wonder if i ever really grew up, ever really stopped weaving fantasies around my head. Sadly these dreams are chipped now, from over exposure to the bad world, and it's like a too-old cup from the hills with the quaint image of a handful of clouds.

So suddenly one day I decided to stay at home and nurture a weak gland.
Not a fictitious gland, not an illusion
So, say helllo post-it. say hello to dementia, say hello to a large large place
say hello to Drama.