And mud walks on. We smear our hands to feel. Isn’t it nice to know. He tilts the bottle one more time until empty. When I tell an addict they’ll be OK they say, “I know.” We walk toward death with an even pace. I ask, “Does it bother you much?”
People are fucking weak. Yet they love telling anyone who’ll listen how to live.
Ask them what they wore two days ago and they’ll talk about how they
plan on painting their walls, because they know it’s time to paint, but don’t bother
asking why the mold grew without cancellation. Fuck their mold and their societal illness. At morning’s age I knew this wasn’t good, but had no claws. And now that later is, I’ll tell what needs to be told. Even if it takes tears and smashed bowls on walls with hatred in my eyes.
My head is a bit off tonight
and my heart too
I saw things I wished I hadn’t
in someone I care about
A few looks go a long way
when the looks are more honest
than the words after
‘A controlling personality is never satisfied. They will manipulate your time, your content mindset, your ability to laugh and be happy when there is nothing to be happy about for the pure jealousy of it. They will imprison you with irrational outbursts while pulling at your sanity; after all, you are the crazy one. They will take your very freedom to think. They will push onward with the power of their stupidity until they have left you ruined and wondering how you became yourself.’ – the young child put their mother’s diary back into the night stand.
It’s a confusing thing to look at a moon. There were no footsteps helping to be heard. Hush little..Don’t say a word. -A young child holds onto the moon from a place within they fear not know again. -Hasn’t it been a nice day. Hasn’t it not yet rained. Haven’t we all had a wonderful time. -While the smiles walk on.