Watch Your Feet; There’s Glass

I am a broken broken thistle, quieter than a dog whistle. Everything has just clicked into place – some sort of meta-machine system wasting no time on its mission to run me into the ground. I’ve no doubt that what I feel this second now is the truth – is a moment (okay I’ve had a little booze) where I can process what I’ve lost it’s just something I thought I had. I am not sad, that already happened; I am not mad because what’s the point. True actresses don’t even remember who they were – it causes stirs amongst the lesser, but true actresses are better than such things as solid logic – a true gentleman often never really needs his wallet; you can call it anything, you can attribute anything to make it seem as though the gods had ruled against us.

My you must have cried after I tried to make you focus.

~ by perfectionatrix on December 12, 2011.

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