I love the way I can hate
Your screaming Your blaming and all your misery. You blame me for spreading in. And then you hate me for what you put me through! And all your disbelief that you comfort me with, all your hatred all your lying, the way you played with me I miss the way I can hate! Cause I know its you, not me! You turned my simplest taste into a worthless meaning. The way you were holding me Your tainted caress struck the void in me! Where the **** are you? I hope you're satisfied. You're nowhere to be found. I'm not missing you I just miss the way I hate you!
“the simplest definition of our learning to count to infinity”
wrote those words to a stranger in pain, awful pain, asking him to count his blessings now awful pain no stranger to me a pain four decades long, that the surgeon promised was fully excised. but today was triggered, chest pain dagger ingredient emergency room so I am counting for, but not to, counting on infinity when the wounding cannot be recalled, only a minor scar to struggle from wonder whence came it from which is the definition of reaching the infinity place, where finite comes to rest
dec 10 2019
Life is too short and unpredictable for
the simplest things not to be enjoyed -like dancing under the rain and play with the puddles after.
Is it the simplest things that make me
feel so tiny and lost in whatever we call this? In the grand scheme of this all we ever do is say hello and say goodbye. What do we do with the time that's in between? How will we remember everything we've done?
— The End —