(no subject)
I take back that bruise. I spent half of my day scratching and scrubbing at myself in the shower, resulting in only an empty bottle of what makes me smell good, and only turning back around to turn the water on again. And still, all I inhale are traces of what I can't recollect. I will refuse to further discuss anything I'm addressing in any other form other than this opaque explanation with holes all over it. Every toss and turn reminded me where I was with the rattle and scrape the wall made. I feel I lack any mystery anymore, that my depth doesn't exceed that of a kid's plastic pool. And what persists to ride on my spine? Constant demonstration that there is someone who embodies the atypical interests I hold. Someone's taken a huge fucking highlighter to my disappointment. I can't help but feel.
MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY
LIFE IS BUT A DREAM
MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY
LIFE IS BUT A DREAM