ive always loved the cold; felt relaxed in the cool breaths of the world and let her whisper lullabies to soften my racing thoughts. numb fingertips that prohibit me to write, and i can only think, but i dont try to exasperate myself, and instead i immerse myself in a reverie of summer nights to warm my arctic eyes. imagine if my presence was not present, and my words are erased; my significance is still the same, dont you think? i do not worry, dont worry, trust me, and all that i am, but its a food for thought, and my hunger is unsatisfied.
oh darling, you look beautiful tonight. your soulful lights are beginning to dim, i think its time you've replaced your batteries.
cielito lindo, im sorry for the fog, you must be on a high, but i dont blame you, will you let my lips wrap around that poisonous fix?
see the world through my eyes, and maybe you'll understand.
do not worry about me, but i cannot stop thinking. admiring this soul-forsaken world is a remedy. i am not contemplating suicide, to think of a world without one is natural, but i cannot leave it, but if i ever wrote a suicide note, i think i would admire beauty rather than express the sorrow that i have felt, or the pain, but rather try to remind myself that life is worth living. i would not apologize, or have my last words depict a side of me that i do not want to be seen. bathe in beauty.