she says im rather quaint:
and indeed it's true;
for i speak in quite an olden way...
but i mean not to say i despise the styles of the modern man.

id like to think i was raised
under the class of formal lex
and the slack of millennial typing--
ironic, but eh idfk.

I don’t want to live
I don’t want to be alive
I don’t want to suffer this existence
I don’t want to watch everyone else turn out fine
I don’t want them to watch me wither and fall...

But here I am
Falling, fading, failing
Dying slowly
Day after day
As the hope I once had fails me
And all I see is darkness
Death is inviting
Oh, Merciful God, won’t you let me die?
This is cruel
To leave me like this
Damaged, wounded, suffering
AND YOU WONT EVEN ******* SAY WHY

God, you don’t hear me

Ugh, what raw pleasure I feel
To contradict my upbringing
To scream at what I’ve always believed in
No... I don’t quite mean it...
But I feel it
And I will say absolutely anything
If it gets me to feel


Mm... how exquisite...

When You are old, will you remember me?
The good, the bad, the best and the sad?
Because time passes by as fast as can be,
And I think I’m going mad.

The clouds drift, the sky splits-
fire and brimstone baby.

Little sparks light up the dark;
A dance of intangible ideas
trying to make their mark.
But the deal is-

Nobody wins.