In the end nothing is yours,
but the choices you make.

I have to puke.
.
.
*PUKE*
oh sorry! i thought you were the window.




that was a joke. now LAUGH!

interlaced fingers, a clasp.
the love that is denied, a gasp.
all woes and darkness, an effortless noise
fluttering heart, a difficult poise.

december begins like any other day
clocks tick like they've always been
little motes of dust float unseen
made evident only by the sun's rays

perched so high, beyond mortal gaze
you stand alone in heaven's haze
what do you hope to feed
stepping on and over me?

its lonely out there in the crowd
if you try, you shall see
what gives you your kicks?
'cause i dont think its me.
what gives you your kicks?
i know its not me.