2004
and then it starts all over again
i wish i knew the magic words to ask you to stay, or as i’d rather have it at this point in my life, that i could simply MAKE YOU STAY. but i can do neither. i need Biscayne Boulevard right now. i need someone begging me to please them w/ pain, HARD, unchaining my own, waking me to life, letting me know i can make them feel in some way, making this shitty helplessness go away. but i am too much of a fucking chicken to use anybody that way. nonetheless, that’s how the “unwell” mind functions, for anybody who has ever wondered. aren’t we all glad to have insane “lil” cowards/hibernating sociopaths among us, who’d die in agony before so much as brushing up against somebody’s skin out of fear, or inflicting what the more daring, yet still “saner” segment of the deviant population views as “consensual, forceful (even if paid for) medicinal sexual torture” to a living being…just ’cause it’s the rt thing to do, to NOT GO THAT ROUTE and make sure everybody is safe w/n their own LUNACY (as if anybody ever gave thought to doing anything rt my way!), to immerse yourself in tears and let the pain subside…somehow, one day…hoping, against all odds, it’ll never happen again, that somebody will actually fucking stay. FYI that’s the way my mind “feels” when someone who comes to matter gets the fuck up and goes.
