the most sickening of feels
when you want to write all the words
but its hard to write any
my mind races
but
the pen gushes
the keys stick
the paper is soggy
the interwebz is broke
my notebook is lost
i want to numb myself
all the ways
but i cant
not i wont
let my vices dictate me
because they have for so long
the ones we shared
and look where we ended up
now my muse
isn't even here to admire the work
the words
the lines
the stanzas
the verses
all written for him, and only him
will be unread by his eyes
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:29 AM UTC
the most sickening of feels
when you want to write all the words
but its hard to write any
my mind races
but
the pen gushes
the keys stick
the paper is soggy
the interwebz is broke
my notebook is lost
i want to numb myself
all the ways
but i cant
not i wont
let my vices dictate me
because they have for so long
the ones we shared
and look where we ended up
now my muse
isn't even here to admire the work
the words
the lines
the stanzas
the verses
all written for him, and only him
will be unread by his eyes
what's the point?
