Don't you worry 'bout a thing today
That would be refreshing. That would be...some measure of peace. Mark twain to the depth of depression! Hear us call out where the depression slows, is a little shallower, a bit easier to discern. It loses coherence beyond that.
you'll see
Variously, the day means things. It means mania, it means this sinking feeling of depression, psychological despair, frantic dissolution, damage, a fatigue that climbs into the bones and proves itself.
What can I call my own, other than my soul? Don Quixote might have satisfied with that meager portion, but I need something else to help fill those empty spaces burned out by this madness. To replace the memories I've rid myself of, the feelings I cut out carefully.
I am destruction and damage. Is that what used to make me so good at re-creation? Now it just makes me good for damage, for repentance, for absolution. What happened to salvation and creation?
how can I hurt when you're holding me?
No comments:
Post a Comment