This is everything. This is it. That is all. I cannot extend. I can't pretent I never felt, anything. Because I am feeling everything. I build these boxes of things that I find, or things i'm given, or things to remember, I never get rid of them because my mind tells me not to because I will have bad luck. But it's all bullshit. Two fucks don't make a right. I still keep them. The boxes are full, but my faith is lost. These are all lies. You are all, all lies. One trip you hate everyone. The next you are conected with the dirt. You have carpenter hands. Strong and stiff. You tell me to let it happen. I don't speak. So you stay at home with the kitchens bill to pays. The height of the hills you walk. And my fog through pills. The loss of my. will. innocence.
i was ready when you were.
hasnt anyone ever told you,
no means yes?
mechanical.
- June 28, 2010
- kelseyneujahr
- 1 Comment
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