It's almost as if you're attached to me, some type of apendage that dangles above my breast. One to painful to be with, yet to awkward t be without. so I grabbed a scaple and scraped away, deep beneath the surface where you cursid mind games couldn't penetrate. As of yet my life seems to be some unpublised auto-biographical type of broken story line, with intermitting climaxes and unwitful plots that twist and turn and become more and more mediocre as each chapter unfolds. And so I'm left to narrate an endless saga of infidelity and mixed emotions,turning the pages the paper cuts slice through leaving scars, not unlike the ones you've given me.

Caution; Falling.


whats the use of usless conversation, nothing more than commas and adjectives that role up into violent blemishes upon a faceless paper. yesterday I found myself walking in front of traffic, eyes closed and hands open, and then it happened, the bright celestial like lights enveloped me, the trumpet like sounds played an all too familiar taps, and as I opened my eyes, I felt free,unwept, inept, and unsung. For every moment that I've never embraced to the fullest, these last moments almost seem like a hearfelt apology; one that seems almost to apathetic to deserve being said. and amidst these bitter feelings, the warmth of one last kiss still lingers upon my lips burning. maybe someday when I'm old and decreped, swaying back and fouth in wobbly chair I 'll see the true meaning of you, what you meant, and what I needed. Maybe someday I'll grow up. but until then,
.....Fuck Forgivness