Yeah

Burn out my bad luck on the small things

Steal my money, scorch my food, Lose my rings

Moths can dine on my very best clothes

Split my lip split my hairs bleed my nose

Stoplights go red and my breaklights burn out

Break my dishes, sunglasses, and boughs

Burn out my bad luck on the small things

So maybe the big stuff will pass me up clean

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95 Black

Hello (love). I’m getting my life together this month. It’s the month and i fucking have to and I’m doing it. So fucking weak the last couple days tho it’s bullshit. Just want to sleep. Sleep and read and lose myself in silly little fantasies. Sometimes, not very often at all, but once in a rare while, reading will feel the way it felt for me as a kid, as a teen. A real escape, an obsession. It leaks colours and flavours and scents into my life. Cherry and something dark. I understand things about myself, but i also don’t. I simplify myself to myself because it’s easier, or at least i mostly think it is.  Yeah. I dunno. I don’t always know how to use my voice, or how to use it for good, or what good is. Every word is the string for a light and the spring for a trap.  Name things with caution, say “i love you” often.