spunky mcsythe
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
You,
I hate you more.
What a starter. I give away my character like it's not yesterday. Oh well, papel. Haha. I don't know what the hell I'm writing about anymore. I'm not in the mood, so, yeah, here it goes.
Sometimes, there's just too much talking, when I just want to keep on walking. On days like those, I keep up with the rain's tapping. I like clear puddles of water, they make me feel weak, senseless, immoral. And I really couldn't care less. A year's supply of boredom and pretty much anything broken has taken it's toll on me. I, I am, I am not thinking. I saw black and white stripes the other day, the ones I'd love on my skin, but sadly, it is not, and I give that thought a cold shrug. I thought, pellets. I wanted to gun you down. With pellets. From the reserve of my Air Gun. 'Cause, you know, you won't die from that, but it'll hurt, and leave a nasty mark on your prudent skin. Bloody, I want you to be. But really, no, a head turn is a chance too big for my health. I guess I'm suited with that lingering feeling when I thoughts of you are abound while I stare blankly into the rain-fogged distance. I hate you.
Suddenly, I'm beginning to doubt if I've learned anything. And suddenly, it's you.
smiled at the sun again @ 10:53 AM,
