10.07.03 - 9:31 PM
"Chances are, he will bring cigarettes."
As it turns out, I am so alone that I am allowing a girl to set me up. I am forcing myself to believe that the only reason I am allowing this to happen is for some cigarettes and a good time at a theme park that makes my muscles sore.
I like to use the word "I" when I write because this is all about me. I will not write for you, I will not write to satisfy you, I will not write so that you can write me back telling me how I write. These words are therapeutic and I will be damned if I let you control them.
I am driven by the way the music runs through the grain of the wood like blood through my arteries, I am something big, I am something big, I am something big and nobody is going to take this away from me.
My feet pound against the ground is this running away? Is this running towards? What am I trying to say?
All I can think right now is, "Lay love down on me thick baby because I want it intense, I want it warm, I never want to stop never want to stop never want to stop because you are all."
You don't know who you are but that's okay, that's fine. You are stunning, you are beautiful, you are unholy virgin perfectly flawed, you'll never know you'll never know you'll never know this is you.
This is you I want, this is you I crave, this is you I am replacing with nicotine and yet cannot replace at all. This is you I am falling for this is you, it's all you, you are all.
Have you noticed my stutter? How I like to repeat? It reminds me that I cannot forget, I cannot forget, I can't let go it reminds me that I'm stuck. I am a skipping record you are a DJ and I need your fingertips on me to make me run smooth. Smooth. Smooth.
Is this all about somebody else again?
I could have fucking sworn I said I'd only write about myself now.
Look what you've gone and done.*
* Thank you.
