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Madness. Stark raving madness. Leaping flames of the mind. Gently licking at the heart. Blood set on fire, brought slowly to a boil. Madness. Stark. Raving. Madness. The conversation simmered as such: "Don't be dramatic." Is this how we go about pretending we are shocked when people cut themselves shoot themselves hang themselves end themselves when they are told to simmer as such: "Don't be dramatic."? Drama is my eye sockets bleeding heavily at paper-crumbled past midnight. But of course I cannot do that. I cannot bring myself to bleed. Drama is my hands effortlessly clutching a neck- any neck, I don't care whose- and squeezing until my eye sockets bleed. But of course I cannot do that. Drama is not a breathless exasperation when suddenly a wave of the same old same old begs to drown you again and once again you must pick up a pen to survive. Darjeeling you tire me oh so very much. You hate me oh so very much I think. You... No, me and my madness. Stark. Raving. Madness. Which I can't let happen again because apparently dramatic is being able to barely take my next breath and wondering why respiration in a classroom should be a mountain climb.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
Soliloquy.
Madness. Stark raving madness. Leaping flames of the mind. Gently licking at the heart. Blood set on fire, brought slowly to a boil. Madness. Stark. Raving. Madness. The conversation simmered as such: "Don't be dramatic." Is this how we go about pretending we are shocked when people cut themselves shoot themselves hang themselves end themselves when they are told to simmer as such: "Don't be dramatic."? Drama is my eye sockets bleeding heavily at paper-crumbled past midnight. But of course I cannot do that. I cannot bring myself to bleed. Drama is my hands effortlessly clutching a neck- any neck, I don't care whose- and squeezing until my eye sockets bleed. But of course I cannot do that. Drama is not a breathless exasperation when suddenly a wave of the same old same old begs to drown you again and once again you must pick up a pen to survive. Darjeeling you tire me oh so very much. You hate me oh so very much I think. You... No, me and my madness. Stark. Raving. Madness. Which I can't let happen again because apparently dramatic is being able to barely take my next breath and wondering why respiration in a classroom should be a mountain climb.
tawandamulalu
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
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