writing keeps me out of the ground.

and nobody in their 20’s should be in love.

what the **** is wrong with me?


hell, tonight the city cries,

hell must some kind of place to see,

but I won’t ever see it,

i don’t want to see it.


will I see you in ten years?

will I finally reach the celebration?

no celebration will ever be satisfied in me,

because holidays are a crime.

I want to see you tonight,

no, tonight will never come again.