November 2009
Stitch my mouth, thread it shut. Everything that comes out, burns someone’s something down.
I can count my real friends on the fingers it takes to peace out when it comes to everybody else.
YO I’M GONNA BE HAPPY IF IT KILLS ME THOUGH.
I’m not writing anything anymore.
Your stomach shakes and stutters like the EL, your bitten down fingernails drumming ghost patterns on your knee. Sing quiet under your breath, keep your eyes where they belong. You’ll end this night alone just like every other, so keep a grip on that cool can; plaster that wide grin to your face. The fun will come and fill that ache at least for a while, gone until you’re back on some...
Happiness is an emotion, not a characteristic and should no longer be applied as so.
Headlights falling across the asphalt, the night is strangely warm for the season but welcome. Best friends in socks on concrete, beer breath. Ludacris spins to life on the speakers and it’s high school all over again; nobody remembers things like that table of periodic elements or or all those algebraic equations but we know every single word to ‘Move Bitch’. And we’re...
