Love can be a funny thing these days with me.
No not my love, others for me. A mistake on their part that I almost never realize until it's right in my face, hugging me, kissing me, telling me things that I will never take to heart, never believing those feelings to be just, not even the touch of flesh.
I am the monster I faced day in day out, the memory of a human being drawn into the finest canvas. Smeared in blood and sweat growing grainy with the tears collecting over a thousand nights alone and decaying.
I am no longer human by definition. I am a story overtold over too many muscle relaxers and vodka laced romance novels.
You love me, and I love her. "Her" does not exist, "her" is the voice in the back of my head telling me I still have a chance when there is no game to be played.
Did I die and this is my lost focus of humanity barreling me into torment?
Of course not, but I wrote the book well.
dusty:
oh thank you so much! i had a fucking great time filming that...i'm so glad i thought of it too, because i really didn't want to film a video becuase i am quite boring actually...and please don't knock anyone off your favorites list...those women are all waaay to great to be replaced by me...if you are going to replace one, you should replace all of them and have me as all five of your favorites...ahahahah
dusty:
ahahahah that is the funniest thing i have heard all day...shit. i wonder why that happened...hah..you are just doing that to make me feel good. 
(it worked) 
(it worked)