4a:030401

it's always hardest to discuss what you should and you're never guiltier then when your intentions are good. and we're held together, but my arms don't stretch so far anymore and thought the situation taunts and the sleepless energy of a stranger scrawls random letter you avoid, the self absorbed frenzy of isolation, grief and nostalgia makes reality of myths and turns apology into indictment. these words kill. and it makes sense that we're here and it makes a mess to deny how far we've come and how much further we've to fall.