I’m not sure if I’m fixable. i feel hollow and ill fall over crumble into ruble. while the picture isn’t perfect its a start of a piece art. sometimes the world ***** and **** when its bad and it makes you mad and you’ve had too much **** thrown your way pen and paper come to play. the pen may write the words but remember excalibur is only a sword and without a grip on the handle it can fight no foe and win no war. i feel down and i want to tag out in the last round or take a dive in round five but **** it pain is on my brain and with this much i can take a little more. I’m not sure if I’m fixable but then again nobody else in the discount section is whole anyways right?

I'm dying I can feel it
My body is decaying
I don't have the *** appeal I did at 15
I'm a ghost

And you're getting bored
Don't defebd yourself don't tell me you're not
Because you are

And after I'm dead you won't remember how you were getting tired of me
You won't remember trying to leave early
You'll remember our kisses and how I touched your face

But the truth is that im dying
And soon i will put myself out

But if somehow you should read this after the fact
Know that I loved you so much
I loved you more than anyone
More than the other lovers
More than my love of bone
I loved you like God
I always claimed to be an athiest
But darling you were divine intervention
And I thank the saints and the heavens
For giving you to me
If only for a while

My sense of humour
is a bit of a defense mechanism
against the nature of Life, itself.

To be able to laugh
in the face of adversity
is neither incredulity or irreverence,
but, rather, the opposite:
it is courage to face it head on
and to take it for what it is
and to make amends with it,
for better or for worse.

It lays amongst an earthy mound
sweet venom rests on top
Strange figures pass without a glance
Until those old days stop

With not a whip it rests and hums
Lets out one desperate sigh
But petals hide it's secret dream
To make an easier fall and die

To be killed for a small misdeed of another
Must be an awful way to live  
But to you, a precious little flower
Is all that you can give