dreams are officially dead
i've forgotten why i felt like this. i haven't seen you in what seems like years, but everytime i do it seems, you've still found something better. something more than this. but for however long it takes to remember why are ever felt this way, i know i'm still going to be feeling nothing inside. i've had my final journey among your kind. you make me fucking sick and i don't want to be near you. i don't think i want to take or hold onto anyone or anything because the idea of being in love has finally been pushed and strained out of my heart completely. i really couldn't give a fuck about it. so don't expect anymore pretty verses delivered on a veleur tongue, or any of more of the fragile things that i've forced into your vision, or any of the ways that i could ever feel like anything more than just a black hole suckling away at the earth. because it really doesn't make any difference to me, whether all of you die or you just get sick of knowing me and leave. as long as you're gone and not in my life, i'll be content.