I find a place to park my ass. I'm not enough to be noticed (one hundred and forty pounds). What is the purpose of today anyway? I've only just stopped bitting my nails for the second time in my life. A ghost town exists in my surroundings. Dead communities laughing and smoking sipping coffee through their teeth. I fail to speak when I move my lips. I can only sing, which goes to waste in the brains I try so hard to relate with. If we were meant to see, we wouldn't have been given eyes, or beautiful faces to look at, which eliminate any perception of wisdom within. Better yet, we wouldn't have been given greed or the quest for an orgasm. Excuse me while I adjust my truss rod. A sick fragrance is being. The eternal "I am". Happiness is a shovel digging your hole. How deep are you willing to let this thing drop you? The emotion is a drug with great market value. It controls everyone before they can control it themselves. Very few of us recover from its years of debilitation. So few it seems that even afterward it's not worth the effort to overcome. This is where I'm stuck I think. There's so much energy I'd like to give out, but there are no receivers. I must constantly bring it, when deflected, back into myself with love to keep sane. Much in the same way one would sit in the most uncomfortable seat in a place just to be near someone dear; this is true love harnessed, presented in sacrifice.Birth sign: Sagittarius
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