prestently listening to:

intentions to:

soberity level:

why am i so ungrategul?

its my curse to want only the purest things, get them and remain sad.

i forgot rainbows were real

its so flattering and hurtful to be exclusive

sometimes paint and pictures take the life out of real life

where are we going?

i wanna run till my heart beat out of my chest and my breaths so far ahead that i'll never catch it. i wanna be sooo dizzy holding still that everything turns black and feels fuzzy and soft. i want to push so hard i explode from the inside out.

so many soft things

give me somthing to hold, grasp, squeeze and i'll crush it into so many little pieces. i need it so badly, and i'll break for sure. i always break it.

wash me out. wash me away. terpintine, alcohol.

smear and smudge me till i'm fuzzy unrecognizable and a blur in your memory and mine.

without deffinition, i'm not real.

i'm not real, i can't feel...this way or that.

'that' is so nice. 'this' is not.

what makes me crazy? is it in the paint?

my heads a mess. i just want to rest my pretty little head on your strong and forgiving shoulder. but i'll bite eventually.

like a crazed beast, skiddish and scared. eat from your hand, purr at your presence and then sratch out your eyes.

its not my fault. its instinct. untamed instinctual maddness and distrust.

tranquilze me please.