The perfect song, the perfect touch, the perfect day to feel nostalgic & relive day in a year when life's waterfall rushes down the cliff & crashes onto the rocks like madness. I'm disappearing on this cold night... & I've taken to believe that this year old scar from a year old bloody mess is [a hundred plus] a year old beautiful thing. I would do it again. Lie a few more times. Break myself some more. But all in the hopes of taking a spoon & feeding the empty star in the tainted sky.

You're always falling away from the one you want to be... Ticking ticking ticking, it's going faster than before. This is starting to be something sacred & it's pulsating faster than the last orgasmic experience I had, which also happened to leave a bloody mess.

I'll never run away from you because I've seen the otherside...

Why is it that they're so beautiful when they're on the floor with nothing but their hands to guide the way?