#drunk collabs

i asked my therapist this,sitting on the edge of a couch, panicking,because ocd means that you obsess about little things (if i defy the rules,the world ends)and she says: “you love himenoughthat your obsessions take a back seat”and i say, “butdoes he?”and she says, “you love himenoughthat you talk about him in the depth ofa bad night, where everyone else would talk aboutthe white numbness that collides with your life:you talk about himbecause you want him to be happywhile you suffer.”and i say: i obsess easily. I want for normal things. she says:the sun obsesses about the earth, then.no all loveis obsession.

i swore i could not. the emptiness ate, and ate, and ate,until i was succumbed to it, and i was numb to it, and it had nothing left to takeit is amazing how long rock bottom feels like home like you can go further, somehow,a grave feels like comfort, like natural,like the skin side of fishi ate it and still was devoured by it but we move because we have no other corner to back intoand we move because it’s the way upand the good news is it hurts but one day it’s worth it despite all and all and all, it’s worth itbecause you worked yourself,pleat after cinchbecause one day you’re sitting on six thousand completed works and you say:i walked up the mountainand boy, did it flinch

the art of asking,a haunting that you’re not finished with, a sighingi beg you on knees or on my feet or in my mouthwith bittersweeti feel inappropriate making you respond to me, acknowledge the girl in the chair, pleadiingso i flash a smile and wind up regrettingbut please,i’m asking just forgive me this body and this soul and thisbeing: i want to be good if you just let me

lord are you listening i made a mistake but it was in her mouth and i forgot how to spell my name but when she cries it out i feel remade in your name is that unholy i don’t know how to play this game

what is my life

I can't I literally can't. This was to funny

Sawyer: Oh