"agonising" poems
Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.
Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.
The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.
Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.
And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.
To reduce us all to such pathetic things.
That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.
As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.
And I understood why it took a much colder mind.
As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****
And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.
I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
*Main Talkhi-e-Hayat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya
Gham Ki Siyah Raat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**With the worry from bitterness of life, I drank
With the grief of my darkest night, I drank**
*Itni Daqiq Shai Koi Kaise Samajh Sake
Yazdan Ke Vaqiat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**Such delicate substance, how can one comprehend?
With the fear of merciful moment, I drank**
*Chhalke Hue The Jaam Pareshan Thi Zulf-e-Yaar
Kuchh Aise Hadsat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**Overflowing cups and beloved’s anxious tresses
With the concern for such calamities, I drank**
*Main Aadmi Huun Koi Farishta Nahi Huzur
Main Aaj Apni Zaat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**Human I am and no angel O’ respected
Today, with the vigilance of my own being, I drank**
*Duniya-e-Hadsat Hai Ik Dardnak Giit
Duniya-e-Hadsat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**World of incidents is an agonising song
With the discomfort of this world of incidents, I drank**
*Kante To Khair Kante Hain Is Ka Gila Hi Kya
Phulon Ki Vardat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**Thorns are yet thorns and there is no complaint
With the scare from crimes of flowers, I drank**
*Saghar Vo Kah Rahe The Ki Pi Lijiye Huzur
Un Ki Guzarishat Se Ghabra Ke Pi Gaya*
**Saghar they said drink O’ respected
And with the care for their wishes, I drank**
— Translated by Jamil Hussain, Poet Saghar Siddiqui, Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:08 AM UTC
Marry me..
err...marry me?
err..will you marry me?
I pop the question
as I look into her eyes
in that dark room lit only by the billboard backlight outside
She puts the table lamp on and looks at me
These few seconds are agonising
as I look at her face lit by the lamp.
Yes?
No?
Need time?
None of the above?
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 1:11 AM UTC
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best
O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.
'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous spunk-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.
But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.
But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
Built up tears,
A dam released,
Violent movements,
Punching bags.
And all at once,
It liberated itself
Of its confining chains.
Alone,
An empty house,
All that movement in still air,
Very much hoping to be heard.
And the irony
of not knowing how to explain.
Harsh tears,
Ripped heart,
A voice made coarse,
Anger,
Frustration,
Fused a total meltdown.
An agonising cry,
Desparate movements replay
On days when feelings numb down,
And a hole widens from deep within,
Projecting from an empty shell,
Onto a vastly absent world.
All the kicking,
The punching,
Sore knuckles,
Aching knees,
Swollen eyes,
Dripping sweat,
An utterly spent heart.
And a hot scalding bath later,
An hour or so,
When souls filled a place called home,
It was as though nothing ever happened,
Simply a day well spent,
Rather eventful.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
You climbed the hill in agonising pain
Laden with all our sin and shame
You took all our broken, battered pieces
Our shattered, broken hearts released
A crown of thorns placed upon Your forehead
Drop by drop, Your robes stained blood red
The clothes of God as Man in two were torn
By sinners, for them lots were drawn
And You, oh God, our sacrificial lamb
Gave up your life for wretched Man
A wooden sign they nailed upon Your cross
To show the world how you had lost
And then You cried out in love unbending
Thus Your life on earth was ending
There's no power of hell to keep you down
Devil can't keep you from your crown
You rose to show You are not defeated
Kingdom come will be completed.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
The paradise of darkness is like a climactic and physiological déjà vu, where souls have been swallowed by ancient daemons amidst an **** of oral sacrifice.
Aren’t you tantalised by such forbidden seductions?
Although I am somewhat acquainted with the blackness of unfathomable depths of the ancient abyss, I sincerely call upon your superior wisdom to beckon me across craggy chasms of mathematical perplexity, where eternal ghosts wail with agonising obscurity from the turrets of architectural stronghold.
If you light a candle toward the incarnation of depravity and reveal the sacred circle, then I will ensure safe passage down those historical and spiral staircases where dungeons hold innumerable fetishistic secrets.
I am captivated by co-existing opposites.
Let us talk with the goat, and arrive at a mutually agreeable pact.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Always and forever you change just like the wind
Lost in your world with feelings I have sinned
Whispers of your love tease through the night
Awake in the morning you live in my daylight
Yearning to find the place where you might be
Solitude in this world I live, forever empty
Agonising emotions are with me all day
No tablet for relieve never going away
Drained emotionally my life on my own
Freezing winter winds chill to the bone
Only you can fulfil my true love’s destiny
Rekindle my soul’s love for an eternity
Enriching my heart with love to be filled
Visions in the past my hearts blood you spilled
Endless games with the feelings I have sinned
Realizing always you are invisible just like the wind
Title of the poem spelt down the spine of the verse.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
it saws old rain in my skull
and your thoughts take a tour; wet and heavy
and quietly, the dirt shifts in the metal tracts
*you break me every single time
my internal spilling is entangled
hopelessly*
my summer-psyche enmeshed in your season
and forever swallows a few more ribs
don't wake the children of the light
for their feathers will burn beneath my nails
a storm hangs patiently on the wall
like a delighted painting made from frantic crystals
and I skitter from your towering moods
yet the moon dances in and out of every calm abyss
the lid is no more vacant than my veins cursed with
your silence
like algae, I slip on
my terror squeaks like a vehicle possessed
cheeks go ashen in my gay smiles
you will blush, in secret at what I will do
to you
sails lift on garlicky air in a port where ships don't wait
and my tongue loosens another melody only doubt hears
I'm completely in your hands
and willing for that crush
my acts for coins fall meaningless in embedded frustration
don't come to the table, then
keep the shades drawn
only the sense of phantoms
will be hanging in my smoke
intoxicating me to radiance
racing through to the ripples in your day
I'll keep lancing pebbles across the ocean's surface
they will never really reach the riverbed
frosty comes in agonising diamonds
a feast of distress sitting urgently
a shudder flutters through me, imperceptible
reduction of sweetness
a date with the cherubs from a netherworld
my nose feels the snows you carry
and I know you constrict still
my language falters and thinking shatters
and although slumped and vulnerable, it flourishes.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
Friday, April 14th ,2017 // 9:37 AM
Here’s the thing with guts.
your guts , my guts.
I hate your guts,
I want you deep inside my guts.
Guts. They make me who I am,
Indecisive.
But who isn’t?
when it comes to the boy you love, you hate him, don’t you?
Don’t tell me you love him, that’s not love.
Love is hating someone with a passion, a burning passion.
Mad at them for taking parts of you little by little,
but they spark a flame in you,
soon the red flame cools down, it’s blue.
and so you melt, you feel the smile aching,
but you can’t.
You built yourself from scratch, how can someone take all that away from you.
guts, they make me who I am.
I hate him,I love him, but I also fear him.
I can’t help but think of the agonising pain I’ll feel once he leaves me.
Don’t shame me for fearing commitment, it’s not illogical.
The amount of love I hold for him can **** once unleashed, once mistreated.
Can you imagine the damage that’ll be done once he leaves?
guts, they make me who I am.
What if I follow my guts?
I’m no longer secure
I’m no longer me
For if I was I in such predicament,
I wouldn’t let a boy infest my mind the way this one has.
So what if my guts are wrong? They make me who I am.
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
#
This ripe darkness
this mourning dream
a wrenching weakness
fit for the guillotine
An arrangement made
sheer comfort prepared
the end of fate
and, oh, how I dared
This dry paper
this cold pit
an agonising vapor
that smells of blood and spit
'Tis my mind
my wicked flesh
a soul pined
peeled off and fresh
Dressed soft tongued
I raised Cain
being shunned
silenced I remain
This dawning fright
this nightly echo
here comes the blight
light, don't let go
#
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
Comfort Zone has a sale on:
Live no lives for the price of one.
Admittedly, it's not a good deal
but I'm always there, always browsing.
One bedroom comes with a comfy bed and TV.
Buy now and get a year of solitude
absolutely free.
Of course I could always shop around -
one more year at Comfort Zone
or should I switch my life provider
to Grow The Hell Up? Maybe The Real World?
After all, they do have benefits for new customers:
I checked with Real World and they offer
three years agonising anxiety, but guaranteed success
(small print: success not guaranteed).
Real World offers free training
in socialising, public speaking,
dealing with catastrophic failure.
But Comfort Zone does have that bed and TV...
Plus it's a great anti-aging cream:
I'm twenty-three going on fifteen.
One word of advice:
If you do try to leave Comfort Zone
they will call you,
send you letters,
bribe you with better deals,
slander their competitors.
When you do switch to Real World,
just go.
Leave Comfort Zone
and never let them know.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
His life, he’d been frequently told,
Was a stepping stone to
Something better. His growing religious convictions
Taught him about the different levels
Of god.
The innocent child, sacrificial man, distant father,
Steadfast sister and mother.
It taught him not to lust after his pretty neighbours,
Man or woman, nor to daydream
Of unlikely trysts with all the inherent dangers
Involved but to expend his energies
In religious ecstasy instead
Agonising inwardly over the beatitude
And the internal landscape of the soul.
By the time he was forty, he reckoned
He’d got a raw deal. No money, no career,
No friends, just a lot of ****** prayers.
They put her coffin gently in
And he cried, watching it disappear
Unable to think of heaven.
He was not consoled now
By thoughts of
Infinite life.
The slow sounding of a repetitious tune
Amongst cloudy vistas of
Over egged benevolence.
He’d missed the boat, through
Worshipping too much. A rotund
Middle-aged man
With a sagging mind, brown teeth
And old fashioned clothes.
All he had now were his church
And his mother’s dying friends.
He threw dust over his mother’s grave
And walked softly away.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
The cosmic river of placidity our spiritual
Graveyard, laden illuminating the resevoirs
Of the sun serpents mineral kingdoms created
As the desecrated flowers of the
Universe decay,
The barren Earths machinery immortally
Combative rebirthing deaths plague.
Akashas victorious joy reflecting the
Sillohettes of times ardititious travellings
Fleeting, the strength of withered spirits
Collective daydreams upon solacses fallen
Fields of despair, redeeming justices
Patience provocating abeyance.
The irredescent golden amber of an iron
Roses kindling flame; katabolisms landscape
Transcending sunsets incarnate pharisaical
Clouds defying agonising temptations rising
On the wind of sanctimonious whispers
Working the stagnate temper of
Choas' repining heart.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
1.
Sweet love
Oh, such sweet love.
2.
Stick into the pincushion of hope
Gentle pins of far-off dreams,
Holding wispy threads of desire
For which time (as a heading) is never enough.
Push down and drown all thought
Which beckon expectation -
And trust to want less.... or nothing;
Thus reduced, we get no fails.
3.
All up to the sky
We cry,
Agonising -
That waiting of footfall.
Then.....
Lovely flow.
Yes, let's dare to increase
Irregular patterns of abdicated pain.
To fulfill what is so held back.
4.
Because of you
Three days can last a lifetime
Full of affection and delicious warmth
Within the bearings of your arms.
5.
Dreams in the coffee whorls
Willing spindles now
Turn as they eddy...like happy tidings
All around my head.
Dreamscapes thrive
In dulcet whirls inside our core.
6.
No shipwrecks here,
No abandoning of esperance.
No deserting,
No dereliction of love.
No grief,
No castaways on hopeless coast.
These proffered crumbs on palm
Become sought-after......and precious gifts.
7.
Sweet love garnered over time
Poured slowly.....into sacred cup.
Where phantoms run to hide away
No abode for wicked despair.
Oh, for lovelorn hearts and broken dreams
To find such gladness in a cup
We hold hope, ever bold....so deep in heart
And sink away in woven bliss.
Capsule of infinity.....
8.
Come, let us drink
From our coffee-cup.....
Of love.
Oh, come......
9.
Time to kneel and give thanks
Place forgiving wafer on tongue.
Take none in haste
Accept only when ready.
To....
Drink sweetness of sky's nectar.
10.
Of pastures plain
And meadow green
Swift do echoes fall
As moments slip away....like clouds.
11.
Oh, and....
One sugar....
(No analogy needed, surely :)
Hot.....
(Nor here!)
And BLACK, please.
S T, 11 April 2013
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
it's 11 pm.
And I feel empty.
I feel like I could quit by now.
Down to the beauty of a lonely harbour
the sky is colouring array of saddened blues
scattered like an ocean
then seek shelter underneath a bridge.
My legs dangle freely over the clouds
i feel like I belong down there.
Biting gusts of winter air drove my body and
the chocking aroma of ash roamed around me
Passive smoking past my body
It doesn't always drift around when it's daylight
like one would create invisible shells of me.
This wasn't daydreaming nor a transport.
That was an escape.
I wonder if the fog take me to wonderland of discovered map
Which I may never listen the waves of the impossible agonising routine
to land inside
What if i feel the same?
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
Goodbye, lover that never was.
I will not forget.
Desire as sharp as a razor to the tongue, laced with honey,
Cut so sweetly, an agonising rapture.
We both know what must be retired,
But I am weeping as I lay you to rest.
As I burn what must be burned,
Regret has no part to play, guilt and despair have nothing to say,
I am retiring both those too.
Welcome back, my friend,
I missed you so. You, you,
I lost you for a time.
You were stolen away, replaced with a changeling,
He entranced me, but could not replace my old friend in my heart,
I have said my goodbyes, did what I had to do,
I missed you, I want you.
I know you. I love you.
Welcome, welcome home.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
// i’m terrified that next year i might hate winter; that the glow of the lights will remind me so deeply of you eyes that i’ll get that agonising ache in my chest again.
it’s always been my least favourite season, but for a while my dear, you changed that.
there was always something about the weight of the air,
thick and heavy with coldness and fog.
you made me realise that it’s the only time of year that everything tastes ever so slightly of cinnamon and ginger; you tasted like cigarettes and bubblemint gum.
after you left i took up smoking for a week purely because it tasted like you, maybe also because the burning in my chest was the closest feeling to being in love with you.
in my mind there is just us and you aren’t here to leave.
you whisper into my skin and i don’t cough up your words in the shower the next morning.
in my mind you don’t kiss me to forget and i don’t shake when you touch me.
the lights don’t stay off anymore,
you look me in the eyes as you **** me.
warm bedsheets tangled in a heap of exhausted limbs.
his bookshelf was splitting at the seams;
bukowski
plath
keats and frost.
he asked me what i thought about love and i told him; it’s the bits of us that we give away with no sense of expectation or consequences. when you feel this empty you’ll do anything to fill the void in your ribcage.
we feel more pain than we know what to do with
so, we paint, draw, write and sing.
anything really, anything that helps us cling to the edges of humanity.
that was the thing, you always knew that you could count on me to get down on my knees for you babe, didn’t you? //
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
*call me twisted,
but i’ve always admired a certain degree of controversy.
complexity is a dangerous beauty, like a hurricane -
admired from afar,
deadly up close.
my biggest fear was always photocopiers.
monotonous carbon copies, binge feeding
on Christmas music
and cold commercialized coffee.
simplicity was schematic,
intricacy was ******
with a quivering hand and downcast eyes,
i clothed myself in these layers.
gift-wrapped, with a ‘danger’ sign as a gift card,
i became an enigma to myself.
diamond rings came with dark clouds,
locks and keys gave way to gun shots and bullet wounds.
fairytales were never meant for the 3-d world.
none of us are “fated” for a happy ending.
riding off into the sunset only comes with
hard work and hard lessons.
yes, i may still be an overthinker.
i may still have more thoughts than i have time
to put them in.
mundane things are still transfigured into
tainted, disfigured imitations
of insecurity, agonising and mental mutilation.
but it does not have to be this way.
pick up a pair of 2-d glasses.
you don’t have to see the world in technicolor.
sometimes monochrome lenses
do tinge the world
in shades of nostalgia, clarity, and hope.
peel off those layers.
you may cry, but cry of catharsis.
it may sting, but salt always does.
wear simplicity as your sail,
rose-tinted with trust and a silent knowing.
you may realise that what you were always looking for
was always right beside you.*
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
*A dark shadow
has been cast upon your heart,
a friendship has come apart.
Memories now destroyed,
lost are the amable words
once spoken,
all in vain,
your heart is broken.
Lies replace the truths you held onto,
precious time you invested has been embezzled - ripped off you.
Trust was swirled up,
it was carried away
with the wind on a cold, cold night,
your crying eyes were forced
to see reality in a bright
new blinding light.
A new lesson
has been painfully learned,
the silver-lining is a new beginning...
You are free of a false friendship -
you do all of the agonising,
and the winning.
You hit rock-bottom
when you got off on top.
Yes! It's their loss!
But it's you that tumbled and fell
from a very steep drop.
~Loss and gain,
love and loyalty
in vain.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Yes, I do,
remember being twenty-two.
Being vapid.
Doing things stupid.
Running around without a care,
despite the scare,
still with a lot of things to spare.
And yet also on this very bed,
every night,
over naught,
agonising...
Knowing I could never do nothing,
of the future to come, powerless,
yet, all at once, fearless.
All in all, it was... confusing,...
Yet now,... old and wrinkly,... reminiscing.
Jun 14, 2023
Jun 14, 2023 at 1:44 AM UTC
There are fragments of my faulty presence that I wish could be forgiven for
As much as there are obsolete memories,
altering theirselves into agonising keepsakes
The trails I have been trying to erase
The past that I thought I've left on the rearview
The hurting
The fear
The abuse
I have been waking up in the morning
Pretending to forget that these throbbing occurrences are all that I am made of
This is not discontent
This is wound
I remember voices
The voices I've known all too well
I was so little
Accustomed to the sound of TV outside my room
A year or so
The TV was never on anymore
And so dinner was no longer served
And Mother was no longer sleeping
And Father was no longer home
Growing up
I've come to realised that things
Just like persons,
They were also able to grow apart
There was the night which remained the longest
The bed have never felt any bigger
And Lord,
Have I ever felt any lesser
It was three a.m.
I called out
Reaching for Mother
Even I remembered how I sounded
"Where are you?"
There was a split second of the most exhausting silence
Until I heard her distraught voice on the other line
"I am looking for my husband."
That night have changed any other nights
And I have been living with the constant pain
Of having felt that you lost something great
When you never actually had it
I had my years of continual dejections
Until now,
I am still learning on how I should stop feeling like I am in pieces
I don't need anyone
Trying to remind me why I am this way
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 12:36 PM UTC
there are too many hours of the day that I am awake for;
twenty-four is a number I have come to dread.
I hate that I'm rolling around for hours and hours,
watching the colours shift across the sky
from one agonising hour to the other
when I'm trapped in this body, this brain, this mind,
this me.
i hate the fact that an empty echoing house
is all that I have to come back to
and that my worst nightmares
are my every day realities;
just me, awake, all day, all night,
*all alone in this ******* world.*
i hate that the warm body and warmer soul I want to make love to
in whose arms I want to spend every night -
wants nothing but return to the comfort of his own bed,
leaving me to battle another ****** night
with the demons that devour my brain.
i hate that for every twenty seconds of sleep I sneakily ******
i'm made to pay through weeks of wakefullness
that settles heavily into my muscles and my bones
leaving me aching and restless, making survival
a struggle and not a goal.
I hate this.
there are too many hours of the day that I am awake for -
i want to be awake for none at all.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC