#straight post

I feel bitter and still functional. My melancholic retributions hold a candle to miss Mary on her worst. I'm filling up with greed because you hold no candle to God. I'm making some sense of it... I'm cradling my minds toxicity. I'm finding the road back to home for some and it could be most. Maybe all. Surely, you'll find some solace in this. Make sure your retributions aren't as fickle as mine. Do you feel warmth coming from all angles? I'm.. I. She and we all laugh back at their howls. Do not dance with me in the pale moon. I forbid your foot notes. You talk too fucking much. If I'm writing about you... oh the hatred I do not crave. Hah find another slave. I love to love and live to dance the pain away. Someday you'll find your own rhythm and I won't hear you anymore. I suppose in a sweeter tone. Everything will continue and when I die I hope for it too.... nevermind, death is an obliterating thought. I'm craving nothing and pain is tickling me to an annoyance. Whatever if I don't die, I'll keep writing... night