Keep writing. Keep writing so they will understand but will they ever? That's a question that's as alluding as a contortionist in a ring of fire.
I want to leave answers and not questions but there's a stiff truth like a shot of whiskey that burns going down.
Like origami I've folded into myself. over, over, and over. Such an intangible, tangled cluster fuck of a disaster.
An embodiment of tragedy. A beautiful disaster.
I want to leave answers and not questions but there's a stiff truth like a shot of whiskey that burns going down.
Like origami I've folded into myself. over, over, and over. Such an intangible, tangled cluster fuck of a disaster.
An embodiment of tragedy. A beautiful disaster.
