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04-05-03, 02:31 AM | #1 | |
Sand
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. the disease is killing me! .
IP:
my mind is a bubble and i dont mind if it rumbles.
but often a sound so suttle will make it fall and crumble. so i cuddle with my pillow every night and every week. and sip a cup full of clarity and enjoy to watch what i drink. and i think how life in itself is amazingly terrible and wrong. i think about the wind blowing through my hands and consider jobs. working on songs about lifes wrongs until nothings left i turn right. stab the fork in the road in my neck to compensate for lack of knife. and in my own sight. i realize i have a lack of light and a lack of night. at the same time. nothing is empty but what is full is few my self comes into view. i think of you whoever you are my obstacle in getting through. bloods sing blues as my life of everlasting depression gets plastered. a pessimist? half full. no my glass seems to be already shattered. as if it mattered as a piece the glasses pieces up against my wrist. quick abrasions of my mind subdue my temptations to slit. a fall into the thick of it and meet a sinking monster with hands. and i fall into it and die. as if pussy was quick sand. *im still waiting for my rib!*
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Kevin. Alex. Patrick. John. |
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