Sometimes I think I'd prefer an addiction to rain.
****** will either **** me or make everyone feel sorry for me
or bring me praise when I recover. That's a better life than constant
disappointment and showering others with the same. What goes around
comes back around so why aren't I happy? He said I saved his life, I asked when
and where is my angel to take me away and love my addiction to the rain and the city?
Isn't it a pity? How long have you felt this way? That there's a hollowing in your chest that
just won't go away. And are you all the way empty, or just evaporated slightly? I wish I was able
to aide you in the fight to fill yourself back up; it's something I'm working on myself, you know.
Or did you? I apologize too often when I really don't mean it. Say I love you before I can
look into the person's eyes. My skin is so thick I can't feel your heart beating as I lay
directly, face to face, nose to nose, breath mixing, toes crumpled-
I can't hear it.