these disco glasses look good on my friends but not on me. and it's the saddest thing in the world.
the flush of a face when your heart drops like the ball in times square is the most valuable thing i've ever seen.
it's crazy with these oreo cookies and kitchen nights up late in the ghost summer. because that's what I've decided it is. it's a ghost summer and we're all living it. you with your drugs and me with my nights. I've wanted to open my bedroom window for ages now.
come over, please. I'm just so upset with the way this all seems to have turned out. and I know you are too. so let's just find some solace on the couch with all that heat smoking in through the windows.
first-century people didn't figure this out and neither will I.
the security blanket I based my life on just so happens to be formed out of rotten threads.
get it right.