Those constant lies,
were like autumnal spirits,
in spring's bliss.

on the
    road

            again,
        again.

   i've never
          really
felt
     like i was
wanted
   or appreciated
               anywhere.

        [play small violin]

...

        tho

             does
         anyone

ever?

       please,
               if you
        have room
in your attic,
                   stash me there,
    next to the
             old shoebox of
            polaroids

           that
  you
      never look at
     anymore.

The sound of your heartbeat
is a song I could listen to forever....