runnin after somethin that you'll never kill...
Where do you go when every home you've ever known was just a rental? When everyone you love is just a reason not to die yet. Your entire existance comes down to a single phrase a choice between actively ashing on the floor or waiting until that long grey ash falls onto your sweater or the floor while you were trying to inhale the slow death of this lit cigerette no ashtray that mirrors your life so perfectly its almost majestic.
I am tired of fighting this desire for the cold empty grip offered up by that skeletal creature that most people have a reason to fear. I don't feel like fighting right now and i dont want to hear those friendly voices tell me it gets better. I am broken and fixing these pieces is a futile effort yet still i'm trying but fuck if i know where i should be with these garbage bags of tears. Fuck if i know.