i believe in nothing.
and i don't trust anyone.
i believe that procrastination is an art.
i believe i have willfully lost my religion, but i wonder if i'm subconsciously trying to get it back //but in a different way than before
i've forgotten how to be affectionate except for on wednesday nights and the occasional hour in between long days.
i deliberately ignore.
sometimes i sit and stare, lost in the idea of something.
i live in the past and i ache for the future.
and if i don't watch out, i get too far inside my mind.
i realize i've stood closer to the sun than i meant to and i really don't think that i'm made to stand on certain days.
i don't ever feel smart enough, but i'm a good listener - does that count?
my entire being revolves around one thing and i, i wonder if that's healthy.
i'm too sensitive lately and i think i have the bladder of an 87 year old man.
all i do is exist and i can't think of any purpose that i serve.
however, i will be content to sit here //with you
and drink lemon slushies while we hold hands on your couch.

||i'm a loser at love, i'm a flower in the mud| ||

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