[insert picture of my very hairy armpits]
everything moves in slow motion. even the time it takes to breathe, appears to be eternal.
expand the boarders, no fine line to cross
pleading guilty of guilt,
all of the time
bring me down, hair falls off, paperclips summon speed, as i walk through this desert
dicipline, what gives
the trouble has a wonderful neck, quickly as it turns towards me and the direction my face faces.
the stripes won't help you now
i'm utterly bored, but unable to commit to anything
even the simple task of bringing out the garbage feels like climbing fucking mout everest.
nothing excites me anymore,
the complaints keep piling up, unable to handle them, i stare out in the thin air, apathy strikes and my soul escapes
all is well, my mind is on repeat
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