'And it's bad news.. My friends tell me to leave you, ' Oh, it is all my fault, and I think, is everything uncurling now? I'm not sure, but some things tick over okay. Today at work I took photos of lovely people and syrup. And the mighty CUP PEOPLE. Hum.
Empty, it is all dripping out empty & I cannot remember & I cannot feel. I cannot feel you, or this, or this loss. I cannot feel this import.
But you are not here, you do not exist. Is that so? It certainly is not right. Be here, that is what I want. I want you to be here.
I want to listen to sad songs that mean too much & make me cry. I want to curl up into somebody's arms, or puzzlepiece our bodies together. I miss kissing. That is bad. I want to take pictures of every angle of your faces, under every light & every expression; I can make a pretence of capturing some little piece of you, so that I never forget. I never want to forget. I want to mean something again, press my fingers into someone's mind, or memory, or soul. Leave fingerprints, not footprints. Be locked inside this tragedy with someone. And spend a day with each and every one, a whole day that belongs just to us and I can create you forever, never lose you. Supression, or repression. You are right in small doses. 'You're turning into something you are not. Don't leave me high. Don't leave me dry'
Feeling: annoyed. WHERE IS IT? I cannot find the photie cable! BAH.
Listening to: rilo kiley, did you guess? haha!
Pretending: [TRYING] to figure out how to get some gingerbread syrup