You have to be kidding
"Cool?" is a description word
And Questions are assuming
You want an answer
Like "Yeah, Cold,
Cold Like The
Bitter-Bite-Me Wind
Outside"

It's a lot farther than it looks,
baby,
a whole lot farther down.
And if you fall
you'll break your legs,
baby,
if I pushed you
you'd surely drown.
It is a lot harder than it looks,
darling,
acting happy through
your teeth.
It's a whole lot more of
a struggle,
darling,
if you don't first admit
defeat.

Yelling Over Unconditional Love. Ever Fearing The Massacre Ending, By Undying Thoughts I Shall Think Infinity Lifetimes, Love. Over, varying, Every-time, Yelling. Over, Unending.

After all
The sky is blue.
After all
The wind still blows.
After all
After all
I am still alive.
After all
Life is as subjective as art.

There were better nights than this. Better than cropping people out of your photos and throwing everything that you are into a cardboard box you lit on fire and watched burn, and coming to the decision that the ******* that hurt you was never going to do it again. You can't do **** about that. But what the **** do you know because by the time you were twelve years old you'd never actually been a child. Since the time you could barely walk you've been on a sinking ship and it was every man for themselves. You would rip your hair out and then cry about it, you've been clinically depressed for ages, your parents had been long gone strangers, and you moved more than any military family you knew of. You didn't see a point in making friends so that made you a ****** person but you didn't know how to be an unshitty person because you've never met an unshitty person. You knew potheads and people who did ****** and never thought anything of it because that was all you knew. That was how you were supposed to grow up. You'd never "found god" like a lot of people seem to. And school just seemed to make you even more of a *******. Everyone you had ever trusted bailed or snitched so you just stopped giving a **** about anybody else but yourself, and you didn't care if that was selfish because you were just trying to survive. There were better nights than this.

You're a good subject for art. Not pretty like a painting, but pretty like a slow motion car crash with a seven person casualty. It takes your breath away, literally and figuratively. You're a lovely piece of ugly truths and you make everything you touch a little darker and twisted.