oh
things might all be much simpler
than we make them out to be.
I get so much done with my eyes
on the prize..
on the prize..
like a lonesome pint of Stella,
Lamenting Is much better than Guilt.
I’m really going to miss this shit„
wolf deck.
these days
are rarer than snow„
there’s a fire in the bathtub.
rhythmic.
fine world it is.
how I’ve missed this winter.
i fucking love this all
love, a lot.
the national
novelty, worn thicker now. I can’t tell what days mean but know nights like childhood friends once left in the snow who maybe never made it home again. waking shivering, frozen finally. dropped & forgotten out in the trees. no, there are easier ways. now, closer to death. slowly, with more feeling.
forever and ever„
