I find it funny that the boy who bandaged my battered self,
sat me on a bench with razor blade rakes on my hips and heart, could be so hypocritical.
He told me I was silly, selfish to think these things and act according to impatience and impulse
And now he “needs” the needles and swears by the smoke that fills the space between us and ** I’m scared he’s headed for a place that not even I’ve been.
The end.
You always think you’ve found it, and then another minute passes
And another,
And then you realize that everything is infinite and inescapable.
Terrifying and terribly reassuring, all at once.