I remember thinking.
How strange it was.
That I felt peace.

Imagining.

Vomitting.

In their plates.

Don't you just wanna.
Scream.
In everyone's.
Face.

I don't care.
Just.
Go away.

Self medicating.
Into that apocalypse.
Of how late is it?
Am I dead?

Love tries to ossify people.
Into that rush of chemicals.
And keeping them just like that time.
You looked a little bit too long.
And, it was more than relaxed on your face.
Cause you couldn't control what you were doing.
Or the words coming out.
Of your mouth.

I don't want love.
It's not functional.
And, it always ends up with.
Acting like I want to stay.

When I'm just there.

For the food.
And the house.
And the shared ****.

Be careful.
Your passion.
Doesn't burn them out.
To the point they malfunction.
And, you can't connect.

I wonder if it hurts more.
To other people.
That I'm not scared to open up.
I just don't want to.

Not with them.

Sorry.

Recurring themes.
Reappear