wb :

you know what? it's okay, i don't care if you told me or not. questions, questions, all these questions, where/how/who are you areyouokay est-cequetum'aimes don'tyouknowiloveyouso

like the whirring of a shaver as it vibrates, or the death grunt of a bee, like radio static sshhiivveerriinngg sshhiivveerriinngg

IT WILL SHAKE YOU

answers answers written across your brow. Every faux angst leaves a line somewhere (between your eyes) (above your nose) (every time you frown). So obvious, so telling except

i don't recognise your face anymore. you're overdeveloped and underdeveloped, I detest you. however pretty you get, your heart will always be that rotting, miniscule lump of flesh beating to your whim and fancy [badup ba badup dup badup ba badup dup] the sound of crash collisions.

i met someone who said that the heart that beats for others is the happiest, and that makes all the difference, a complete stranger has the capacity to care. you're just all about yourself, number 2 for a year, superstar for an hour, yourself for a minute. you're trapped in your own little box of medals and badges, I label you Tin Man, the Faceless Being who Means Well.

get back here, i miss you so.

Labels: prose