1/12
chapped tangerine
baggy ankles, hip tight jeans
skin wrapped in tawny obsidian
lethargic epoch lunges forward:
birth, eighteen, mid-life crisis, death
immortality is only achieved through fame
word confusion
twisted syllables
mute tongue & dull fingers
there's not much left
a boy dominates my heart & my dry machine
my birther attempts to implant static into my cerebra
my life is too abstract,
but my existence is too concrete
and i want to die,
but i also want to walk down the street
-
a good song to listen to even when things suck and u can't seem to write much and u cry a lot and u have to do excessive amounts of assignments for school and u have a boy who will hopefully become ur official Boyfriend soon
