its easy to give up
but its even easier to screw things up.
hard to try. damned redundant. tickle the feelers until they bite-elementary?
give a fuck. take advantage. make a mess out of me-ive done the brunt of the work for you.
the western hempishpere on my planet pains me. figuratively? i make no cents. impoverished in my atriums as well as my bolsillos.
my story book has pages ripped out. rewrite the missing pages or leave the story open ended?
lautrec. sweethearts fill the gaps between the seats-worth reaching for.
ive figured out who the impostors were, time to have them hauled away for good. they wudda gotten away with it to if it werent for my pesky dog. good riddance, long haul down the healing track.
piles of ashes. theres no wind strong enuff that can blow away the traces of the bridges thatve been burnt. constant reminders. here. today. between the lines-worth reading. mr.gillis is gonna love me one day, that is, if he loses his marbles. until then, i'm yearning for the impostors on deaf-row. flip a bitch, vuelve.
time to close my lids and let my mind regurgitate images that signify nothing of visions of higher powers. what my mind produces amounts to nothing, what my heart produces is leaves me flaccid and broken. worse things have happened.
i miss the bad times. these times arent bad, just stagnant and without the obviousness. to be miserable is cut and dry, done and ready to begin healing-but me,now...to not know whether the 'good' cancels out the horrible? to leave doors cracked open, to let the stories run off the page? blunt. obvious. deal.
i still, make no cents.
but its even easier to screw things up.
hard to try. damned redundant. tickle the feelers until they bite-elementary?
give a fuck. take advantage. make a mess out of me-ive done the brunt of the work for you.
the western hempishpere on my planet pains me. figuratively? i make no cents. impoverished in my atriums as well as my bolsillos.
my story book has pages ripped out. rewrite the missing pages or leave the story open ended?
lautrec. sweethearts fill the gaps between the seats-worth reaching for.
ive figured out who the impostors were, time to have them hauled away for good. they wudda gotten away with it to if it werent for my pesky dog. good riddance, long haul down the healing track.
piles of ashes. theres no wind strong enuff that can blow away the traces of the bridges thatve been burnt. constant reminders. here. today. between the lines-worth reading. mr.gillis is gonna love me one day, that is, if he loses his marbles. until then, i'm yearning for the impostors on deaf-row. flip a bitch, vuelve.
time to close my lids and let my mind regurgitate images that signify nothing of visions of higher powers. what my mind produces amounts to nothing, what my heart produces is leaves me flaccid and broken. worse things have happened.
i miss the bad times. these times arent bad, just stagnant and without the obviousness. to be miserable is cut and dry, done and ready to begin healing-but me,now...to not know whether the 'good' cancels out the horrible? to leave doors cracked open, to let the stories run off the page? blunt. obvious. deal.
i still, make no cents.
Another Doors fan! Things are looking up.