Like endless thoughts about the cosmos. Fabrications of the mind about the what-if's and but's. Like frustrations and regrets when everything else is no better than suddenly inhaling a newly mutated strain of anthrax. Like feeling the scalpel slicing your skin, into veins, muscles and bone. Like wanting to scream from pain only to find out you are knocked-out dead from anesthesia. Like wanting to wake up from a nightmare but heartache kills you when awake. Like trying to hold my breath to see if I would faint and eventually die from cyanosis. Like being lost for words in the middle of a blasphemy contest with that bitch. Like being dumped when you are at last, ready for a relationship. Like flunking a licensing exam on your birthday. Like the first night you cried yourself to sleep over a lost lover. Like the stupidity of being curious of how you would feel when you see the bitch for the first time. Like wishing they wouldn't last. Like trying to puff a cigar and hold your breath 'coz you know you couldn't stand to smoke. Like the noise I make when holding back my tears and my snot is about to fall off. Stupid and poignant.
Like you who fell under a douche bag spell. Like the moans from the walls, and the midnight calls, and the stench of undeniable shameless feats. This is for you. Like the feeble minded. Like the douche and dorks, hell made equally provocative to the sophomoric. The melodramatic bitches and scorned one-nighters. This is for you.
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