I don't write because I can't feel anything and nothing happens, nothing I can feel. Only fleetingly, and I can't quite catch it however much I want to. Too many things slip by and they don't even leave a scratch, a terrible finality to everything, to most things. You have to be able to forget right? To forget, to feel/ There are too many little things and I can't communicate, I can't make myself understood.
Where I lived & What I lived for.
Look back, and I could say that it was you, completely all of you. Fleetingly, mixingly, and fragments, everywhere all over the place. But you, you are gone. I'm already erased from your mind. Seeing you, rips my in two.
And there are so many complications,, so little to pretend, to make use of. I want to ask questions, I don't understand, you don't want to know. I wanted you, idiot. But it's superfluous, and I'm sleepy. I am missing parts of myself, and I have so many eyelashes, or something. It spills out of my head, just like tears when I'm crying all the time, I was happy, bubbling over, with thoughts and things curling out of my mouth everywhere, and thinking and confusing and cutting everything up, it's beautiful, in it's way. It means so much! But it's mismatched, that's all.

((my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me? , so i die happy))

hey, did you get some? man, that is so dumb

and you stood at your door with your hands on my waist and you kissed me like you meant it and i knew that you meant it

just lay entwined here, undiscovered

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

last * next