05:30, 12 July 16
My mind is a torrent. i cant remember the last time i awakened angry, and so early to boot.
A bird’s morning song, rising from some grey-blue shadow sure, cuts me down my middle line with surgical precision and uncanny finesse – i hadnt even noted the stillness until the mammoth a.c. box outside kicked on and destroyed it. An anger intertwined with unspeakable sorrow exacerbates and one hot tear escapes down my right cheek
This machine drums out every subtle sound
Just wondering when death will come – and if im urging it on – Tired, ugly i guess
Taking mental note of own signs of psychopathy. It’s the “~pathy” part that gets me
Relic, i c u | it must require outstanding fortitude to pierce and draw a blade therein across one’s belly
Will i dance without my legs? Will i be cursed without my eyes?
Great movie line: “Would it have mattered?”