A Thousand Natural Shocks.

My nails are compulsively painted poorly. I dislike flipflops on men. I like romantic things, bright or grey. I think morbid images have an inherent beauty. I'll probably like you, so I hope you like me.

And time goes on

And the words get older

And I think somehow, I have found my way in some shadowed corner

I know how I got here

but it is dark and I cannot find the way out again.

I sit in the rubble of my own creation

and wonder how the calamities in my life which mean nothing and are so trivial

Can still fill my lungs with tar and soot.

Its been a very long time since I last remember being happy.