Something of Myself
Monday, August 01, 2005
Words are not words for me. They are like People. They fuck me. They deprive me. They bite me. And they will kill me. Soon.
And I hate not having the right words at the right time for the right people. I missed the bus. Tried getting onto it. Held the railing. Wheels in motion. Pele trips. Never knew how to balance. Falls flat on face. Bleeds.
This is the end of the story. What are you waiting for? What are you looking for? You'd just be disappointed. I have an infinite capacity to disappoint people. And most importantly, I have an inifinite capacity to let myself down. Sometimes by using some words. And sometimes by not saying anything.
Words are not words for me. They are like People. They fuck me. They deprive me. They bite me. And they will kill me. Soon.
You sit back and watch. The Spectacle of Death.
And I hate not having the right words at the right time for the right people. I missed the bus. Tried getting onto it. Held the railing. Wheels in motion. Pele trips. Never knew how to balance. Falls flat on face. Bleeds.
This is the end of the story. What are you waiting for? What are you looking for? You'd just be disappointed. I have an infinite capacity to disappoint people. And most importantly, I have an inifinite capacity to let myself down. Sometimes by using some words. And sometimes by not saying anything.
Words are not words for me. They are like People. They fuck me. They deprive me. They bite me. And they will kill me. Soon.
You sit back and watch. The Spectacle of Death.
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whatswrongkiddo?
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