8 July 2007
I write to you for trust. I write to you to for repentance. I write to you since they’ve kicked me out and hope to rid my entrance. I write to you for hope after anger disappears. I write to you, tears in my eyes, as vision gradually smears. I write to you to fuck around—my hand grows tired. But I kid around because I know that you know. I write to you by means of having something in mind, although it gets stuck and it’s my head that exercises. I write to you from pain, from my own subtle compassion. I write to you because you see that this is my only attraction. I’d write to you tomorrow but might throw myself away. I want to write and want to see, so… what is there to say?
Hallucination is not cool. Wishing through disorders is scary. Persistent thoughts are annoying. And then there’s people and moldy corners that are gross but want me. I can’t resist checking on things because bad days will occur. It’s out to get my surroundings; out to hurt. I know it all because I can’t get enough. When sought to seize me mentally, I’ve become distraught but you can’t see. Riding up and writing down. I swear I’d think to soar this town.
*cmt if you like :]
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