{wrong pipe.}

a little more light hearted. soon all the secrets of the universe will be unfolded to me. i'll be reborn from dust. lanterns lit and lifted towards the memory of what was a constant attempt. the star-crossed love affairs sink down the dingy drain of forgotten lust. the seventh sun shall be dressed in pink and purity. a safer face next to a lighter tunnel. and a solitary beckoning for solitary confinement finally seals the proverbial deal. say what you will with accusations abounding. the supposed conclusions you've drawn about my presence. my childlike frenzies. the slamming of doors and constant requests for kisses on the mouth. your world was not made for the likes of me. thank god and hallelujah. i'll get fucked up on my own account. alone and so sweetly. like a lamb to the slaughter that it made for itself. the rain comes down as it ever did. and what i'm getting used to i cannot abide. the nights need lonely customers. and beds were made for sleeping. heated bodies have breathed heavy within me. none of which my own. and when these ghostly evenings come, i'll be waiting, gun in hand in mouth. for that moment when it becomes painfully apparent that i want none of this. your frequencies are deafening. your bodily fluids worthless. i can dive down in myself and pull out a soggy liver. make beautiful babies to breastfeed in the sun. and the fragrance you're emitting passes by and makes me wonder, right before it makes me heave. i barely see any worth in me, and i'm trying very hard to make my life work.