sábado, 1 de enero de 2011
im not a 100% but i can almost conclude without a shadow of a doubt that your playing just for shits and giggles. you have no real intentions of getting to know me or being with me. maybe the me you see doesnt spark enough of an interest for you to want to dig any deeper. shit. maybe its that there isnt a deeper level to dig to. but youre a ugly human being. that much i know. you could have spared me so much misery. all it would have taken was just a little bit of mercy at the beginning. instead, you said what you thought i wanted to hear. you were good at humoring me. despite this awful feeling in the back of my head i followed you along your yellow brick road of electrolyzed lies. each one with a specific timer set to do the most damage once its already been swallowed, digested and waiting patiently to explode deep inside. maybe its just in your nature. maybe i should be more upset at my position on and the dynamics of the human food chain. your an ugly human being but i cant look away. your letters are coated with a plastic canvass for you to paint pretty white lies and butterflies on. the core is nothing hardy or meaty but instead theyre injected with a laxative as if you were trying to give me some kind of hint that none of this is keepsake material. swallowed and flushed away. maybe thats how you intended it.
or maybe im just coloring more and more detail at the gloom and pessimistic corners of my mind. maybe its that i let a matchstick made of doubt start mental wildfires that not even the person who gave me the match could put out. and when fires run ramped, people get hurt and bridges burn. the sky turns grey and ashes fall and float to block out the rays of light. and even with all fires burning theres no place to stay warm. pick up the pieces and pick a direction to start walking in. how many times can one person afford to pick up after themselves. and what can you do with the pieces of a broken heart.
or maybe im just coloring more and more detail at the gloom and pessimistic corners of my mind. maybe its that i let a matchstick made of doubt start mental wildfires that not even the person who gave me the match could put out. and when fires run ramped, people get hurt and bridges burn. the sky turns grey and ashes fall and float to block out the rays of light. and even with all fires burning theres no place to stay warm. pick up the pieces and pick a direction to start walking in. how many times can one person afford to pick up after themselves. and what can you do with the pieces of a broken heart.
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