Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Vile Vermouth

We're too similar.

Our mother issues.

Our self-mental-illness-diagnosing traits. (By the way, I'm pretty convinced I'm a manic depressive and Bipolar)

Our sordid saviour in the form of self-torture.

Our freedom in escapism.

Our sense of Lost and wanting to be Found.

Our collections from walkabouts.

Our interest, but your talent is God-sent as opposed to mine.

But hey, he wants you. He wants you he wants you he wants you.

I'm left to be the undocumented girl in their life.

Again

and again.

And again.

So who's got it worst babe?

photo ©2009 chris rain

3:51pm
1/12/09

0 comments:

Vermouth & Viola

The bitter lining the strings.

Yesterday and tomorrow are nothing but what makes today matters.

Don't justify. I'm way past that.

Twitterific of Me

Too late to die young

Too late to die young
you throw a coin, into the sea, and shout out “please come back to me”

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