mosca tea

it hasnt gotten any easier to look at you. i still feel like bragging to people that once-i-knew-you.
but how is that worthy of praise when you will never change? but it feels better to know that it’s always and not used to.

i will take what i can get.

3 years is nothing compared to 6 months, apparently. and what does it matter if you spell it out or not? a certain vertebrae tells me that it is saturday and that it means nothing better than monday when you fill your life with people that dont stop wanting things. and that you are no different for wanting them to stop wanting.

talk yourself in circles, why dont you?

flies continue to buzz on. both literally and otherwise. i should open a window and put the butter away. but sometimes i can almost find something worth looking at in them. or rather sometimes they seem to be the only things able to touch me.