bbbek

 Sometimes you can't just change, you have to self destruct and start again. This theory, and this alone, is why I try to re-invent myself every day. Today is Sunday and I am inspired. I always felt like Sunday held a certain secret appeal that the other day's could never quite capture. I think the christians were onto something, but for me, it sure as hell doesn't have anything to do with god. It's an atmospheric thing. It's like your bed is hugging onto you tighter than ever and just wants to spend the day laying with you, keeping your secrets. It's like the birds just want to sing to you and only you, a song they've been practising all wee

3. i never knew what the glimmer in your eyes was... but i carry it 'round with me all the same. maybe you'll realise it's missing and track me down. or maybe you've always known, and i'm stuck with it forever. 2. you looked so sad when you told me you loved me. yet you'd smile widely and confess that you felt so alone. i wonder if it's a burden being so tragically beautiful. maybe i'm neurotic, but i won't sleep until i know you're okay. 1. tangled up in sheets you told me to wait for the day we meet again. told me you'd smile, and we'd know that it's all okay. "for now we'll lay here", you whispered, head resting on my c

i. you glanced down nervously thirteen times when you told me we were over. i noticed because my eyes were clinging deserately to yours as though they were the last thing i'd ever see. please note: your well-crafted words are betrayed by the body language of a guilty man. "liar!" it's screaming, "LIAR!" ii. the skeletons in my closet keep me awake at night, whispering sweet-nothings and luring me in with their secrets. you used to climb into my window each night and keep all my nightmares at bay. you're gone now, and every night i wake up screaming. please note: you owe me two dollars fifty for the deadlock on my closet door. ii