Anyway, Don’t Be A Stranger

with a heavy heart i go to bed knowing i have to leave it tmr morning

"it's so fucking over" yeah dude it's 11pm it's the end of the day it's time for you to go to bed. and tomorrow you'll be so fucking back because you'll be awake. go tuck yourself in dude you'll be ok

one thing about me i’m the leaver. i will leave

What part of the mundane and joy can I not creatively interpret?

To paint your emotions is one thing, to be confined to sadness is another.

Creativity sparked by death is grim, using grief as paint I finished the forest scenery

each brush strokes repeats the motion of her hands combing my hair

each detail I add she undo a knot,

each rocks and tree I paint she plaits my hair, with the same care and softness as I add the shadows.

Something about me just screams unlovable and easily replaceable

Best way to spend a summer afternoon

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