quasi_sean

when the heart stops beating.

i will starve myself until there is nothing left but powder that was once bile & a stiff tongue that is laced w/obscenities & songs. The disease is grand, gripping, and you learn to endure the pain & pass it off as an intruder--a cumbersome reminder that everything you do or thought is ultimately wrong.

imma drop
drop
drop
to the tune of mourning

make this time less important--fleeting explosion like the comet.

NO.
Fucking.
way.

here are the odes.
to all of you.
i think of you often.

all my hugs and kisses until i can see fit to return to compooter-land.