its difficult bein me and fillin quadrants. not for a lack of tryin or options, mind you. but w)(en everyone's made of cardboard or wants you dead, it )(its you in t)(e dark of t)(ose moments layin t)(ere t)(at you really are t)(e w)(ere t)(e buck stops; t)(e pinnacle, t)(e peak, and t)(e solitude t)(erein. i suppose t)(ats w)(y ive always favored t)(e form over t)(e romance. t)(e smoot)(ness of t)(e c)(itinous s)(ell, t)(e meat in various states of life. t)(e semi-sweet scent and gloss of troll blood. a dead body is beautiful and can be made more beautiful by )(and and impact. and wit)( my )(and, i can seize for myself t)(e warmt)( in turn denied to me. like ive taken everyt)(in else before.
not an invitation for solicitations btw. fuck off.
Boo hoo! How terrible. You filled your recupracoon with slime now drown in it.
/\ Imagine how less lonely you'd be if you lived a life where people didn't want you dead /\
didnt say i regretted it
re: above
aint w)(inin, im fuckin musin about it. a bitc)( cant muse anymore?
t)(is is w)(y youre t)(e most forgettable of your friendgroup, damn. no gumption of interiority at all.
For the briefest of moments I was so near to sympathizing with you. A shame the post took a turn for the repullsive. I shall return to waiting for haiku critiques when I rellease more.