That Burning Smell...That Burning SmellThat Burning Smell...
Twice in an instant. Once in a moment. Poets are vainer than the veiniest vein. Happiness, sex, sadness, anger. I love you, you don’t love me.
Nothing new, nothing old. Caress a breast here, admire yourself over there. Get over it and get going. Yet here we all linger…..even me.
I don’t name the voices in my head, they just exist. I didn’t ask for them to be here, And now they won’t go away when I ask them to leave. So I’ll push them aside and let them manifest— In the form of a mental disease. &nb
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When the world is ending, I'm throwing the party
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