An intrusive suspicion lurks from within, watch no adventure! My handcuffing Being still tied to the detainee, escaping nothingness, the loss will unfold in a conscious euphoria, because I really wanted to believe in true promises that were proved again only in their lies! The unstoppable threat is already ubiquitous; red knife shards dazzled in the face of a scorching sunset!
Even the working Cosmos seems to revolve around itself merely for deliberately forgetting Man! The pedal of my line should be turned into turbo speed, and six while I have the strength and holy Will!
 
Something could have grabbed me and now I am missing it; voluntarily, I fall faster into the cavity-bottom of undermining pits, for I cannot know who can still hold my hesitant hand to pass through the fierce congregation of great, success-besieging great fish? And if there is even a Career Opportunity at all, the mercenaries of Blind Luck are immediately sawed apart by self-bribing five-minute famous s chopsticks! Most of the villains today are like a rubbed businessman, for whom the World is still a usable toy!
 
The running shadow of Silence would crash, and trembling centipede rat leeches would **** each other's blood, if it could be obtained eagerly! "A stern-hard hand waves at Executioner's bean," What the hell are you scribbling for? No use! My mother's redemptive voice, the hustle and bustle of horror, sways space after hard-judging words; many times every equation seems unsolvable!
How can I learn the recipe for survival, which I myself doubt many times?
 
Brain-softened gorilla brains, chirping-smiling, kissing little kittens, lift yourself up to the pillars of universal knowledge — and don’t be as dark-foolish as the midnight forest!
 
An intrusive suspicion lurks from within, watch no adventure! My handcuffing Being still tied to the detainee, escaping nothingness, the loss will unfold in a conscious euphoria, because I really wanted to believe in true promises that were proved again only in their lies! The unstoppable threat is already ubiquitous; red knife shards dazzled in the face of a scorching sunset!
Even the working Cosmos seems to revolve around itself merely for deliberately forgetting Man! The pedal of my line should be turned into turbo speed, and six while I have the strength and holy Will!
 
Something could have grabbed me and now I am missing it; voluntarily, I fall faster into the cavity-bottom of undermining pits, for I cannot know who can still hold my hesitant hand to pass through the fierce congregation of great, success-besieging great fish? And if there is even a Career Opportunity at all, the mercenaries of Blind Luck are immediately sawed apart by self-bribing five-minute famous s chopsticks! Most of the villains today are like a rubbed businessman, for whom the World is still a usable toy!
 
The running shadow of Silence would crash, and trembling centipede rat leeches would **** each other's blood, if it could be obtained eagerly! "A stern-hard hand waves at Executioner's

the last time we spoke, he called me “shrapnel” and the way his tongue curled around the word made me glad to be explosive. he told me once that the way she moaned implosion on his neck made him feel like an atom bomb. looking back on this past summer, all i see is red. honestly, i never asked for him, and he never asked for me, but circumstance and fate had a heated argument and we were the resolution. i had never fallen in love before, and while he walked around with “trouble” tattooed on his wrists and an arsonist’s grin, i found something calm within him. no one warned me that summer will simultaneously kiss your cheeks and break your heart. by then, i had already spent years and years cutting the thorns off of roses before he came along and asked me why i wasn’t planting sunflowers to begin with. i still don't have an adequate answer. on our first date, he told me that aspiration is a characteristic of the flames that burn down thousand year old cathedrals and ambition is a trait of the inferno. i asked if him the hollowed out stone bodies of these houses of god still flinch at the strike of a match. he didn’t know, but he kissed me and i think i figured it out. together, we were mushroom clouds, firecrackers on the fourth of july, smoldering camp fires. we were blazing and bright, flaming and fervent. but now summer has ended, and the flames have died. like a smothered candle, there was no fight. no fire. luminescent absolution was where i found myself when sticky, sweet summers and screened in doors hiding broken intimacy came to meet. i was ready for guns blazing and violence: darling, arson was always my specialty. i’d rather him set fire to my lungs and watch the rest of me ignite than calmly say goodbye and walk away.  these sparks escaping from my chest are from the wildfires within me and also my lust for incendiarism. i know it’s over but i’m still lit up like a cigarette, wishing to be crushed by his lips again, to be on the tip of his tongue again. we were a fiery bed, and i found comfort in the ashes and embers. the last time we spoke, he called me “shrapnel” and the way his tongue curled around the word made me glad to be explosive. but shrapnel is just another result of the fire, a repercussion of getting too close to something volatile. shrapnel is for survivors. shrapnel is for those who walk away. i am many things, combusted and burnt out, but i am not shrapnel.