| i am afraid that i am slowly unraveling myself
and that soon i will cease to have the ability to feel
there is a damper on my creativity and everything is dead inside me
and i am having trouble concentrating on any single thing
for an extended period of time
i am afraid that the things i fear are self fulfilling
and that i am damned to run on an oval track
until some cataclysmic event may derail me
but most of all i am afraid that i am losing the ability to love. |
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|
we are already dead. we are all waiting to die.
our bubbles will pop, either naturally or by force. and if it comes down to it, we must pop them ourselves.
and our waking thoughts:
please, not again. not again. |
| |
| is there something wrong with me?
fuck you.
all of you.
and everything you were to me. |
| |
|
i can't stand it when you leave |
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