Nightmares and nap-mares all in and over me. Things that break my heart, and myself just screaming until my voice gives out. It carries into the waking day. How can i ever feel… Like I’m enough? How can i make myself feel like I’m whole and complete and enough? Smoke, and the sparkling crackle of not quite dry things burning. Watching rows and rows of stubborn weeds bow and shrink before the flame. Shrink into nothing but ash. Good. Die. Victory in a battle I’ve fought for months. I need real work. I need real money. I don’t t want to lead tours anymore. Time to sleep. Dreams, please, be gentle with me.
Hahaha everything feels sad to me. My period surprised me and all the emotions I’ve been holding in check are all up on me. The main themes in Hamlet are madness, revenge, religion, and political instability. Fight me if you thing I’m wrong. Fight me if you think i have too many weeds in my front yard. I choose trial by combat and my weapon of choice is the force of my unbridled anger about the way the bourgeoisie exploits the proletariat. Maybe we should get married for the wedding gifts. Maybe i should live off loans and get a doctorate. Maybe love is that steel you find when your loved one needs it. Maybe it’ll be alright if i can just move past this. Yeah. I’ll tease and lead you with the promise of a goal and I’ll destroy and feed you to a spectre or a ghost, it’s good. The rooms of all my dreams are all filled up with bad mistakes, the ones i’d let go and the ones i would just make and make. Yeah.