|Current mood:|| awake|
|Current music:||Nirvana - "Rape me"|
don't cross the borderline
kiss your identity goodbye. and i will never open my doors for any of you again. i will stay inside and watch the rain rape you tonight.
THIS NORMAL LIFE IS NOT SO SIMPLE. this misunderstanding is not so trite. so WHY do you even try this hard? your throat is just going to be slit. you will NOT be heard.. I WILL NOT BE BOTHERED. shut up. sit down. let's play this game out again, but you know, you're going to lose. and you will thirst for something more, for those fifteen minutes of fame. so let me feed you my fist. and you can pretend the crowds are screaming for you. you can pretend i care.
random ramblings in my head. voice whispering. mind screaming.
i hate not being happy. i wish i were not so masochistic.
i dreamed that a beautiful boy was shot by his exgirlfriend and he fell into my arms. his blood poured over me like a fountain of mortality. he looked at me through glassy eyes and called me an angel.
i woke up and wish i could go to sleep again. i would be immortalized the way i was in those dying, stunning eyes.
this routine is agonizing. i am losing a bit more of myself each time.
i cannot sleep anymore.
sometimes...you find someone who is right for you. someone who sleeps next to you, with those curious eyes and faint breath. he looks at you longingly, you kiss him on the forehead. and the two of you, in a sex-starved, psychedelic world of drugs and ephemeral happiness, find each other. in a spiral heading nowhere. and this is love.
until he begins coughing violently and ends up exploding into a giant fucking cockroach. and you stare with blood dripping down your walls and your face, as the monstrosity wriggles across your room and out the window.
fuck. fuck them all. fuck this hypocrites who lie behind theit fake smiles. crash the mirror, cross the borderline. fuck society. screw those fucking doctors who want to study me. you know nothing about me. i don't want to be fixed, i am not broken. i don't need your humanity. savagery. the delicate balance between the feel of your fingers upon the plexiglass screen and the way it falls apart as the world melts into rousseau's profile. and then nature is the late-night glare of the tv screen, and we have lost ourselves in the numb desire for something more than what we have. civilized. primitive. and then it all evaporates.
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