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twenty-ninth, apr i want to go to sleep. when all i can do is think. thinking is the rock to sleeping is the scissor. unfortunately, i don't make the fuckin' rules... all i can think is though his face is being worshipped from all angles, all he can think of is the pock marks in his skin. am i addicted to this? fuck it, i'm not going to stay confined to the dark room. i'm going to live in lights, so that when they grow weary and begin to flicker, i will finally go to sleep, easy like, lie down in the direction of the irreversable, saying to myself in prayer, "i once shared my broken body with the beautiful." and so much peace will be with me. |