July 2011
7 posts
I spend most of my nights
high
or low
caught between the itch for
love
happiness
warmth
familiar voices
lights
moments
arms
lips
spitting words of promise
believable
because I crave it
but so busy and lost in my ocean of poison
self induced
self medicated
not ready to fall back into reality
terrified to go a day without
giving in
to these growning addictions
and this weak...
animalist:
Can’t be fucked to be nice anymore
