Or doesn't...
I will only say things that used to openly cause the heart to wince no longer do so. It is now only a distant sadness, a weak signal that still comes in from time to time to time...
You do go through all the stages of grief when someone is "lost" in space. Lies tell you that nothing was real, that you are obviously not worth the palpitations necessary to keep the burn burning. At some point you want answers to those queries, to know what was behind all those other doors. Eventually, you realize that you would never believe your eyes, ears, and whatever organ decides to get involved.
I'm going to get such a great fucking workout today. I want to punish, and grunt, and send spittle high flying into the air around me. And I want to froth...
A trip down mammary lane, a short jaunt along the cracks of mein own fragmented ticker...
One should never partaketh of these things. The last piece of old pavement to smack me in the back of the head took 16 years to boomerang, once again, into the picture. Reviewing, I believed none of the hype. Yeah, yeah...
Never gave up the goat, did you?
Always pined, regardless of the funjinx "endured" for the sake of keeping up appearances.
Facade and cryptic lipshit.
I miss things sometimes. Substitution can be tricky, and I'm finicky as fuck.
I'd love to rock the IDOL lifestyle. It's probably part act, but I could keep things purely physical, and never give more than a few teaspoons full of who gives a shit.
Wonder if he throbs for his ex, Perri.
Do we all have a great white buffalo?
Were I to saddle it up again, would I dig heels in crueler than before?
In the end, there would be no reprieve. I would suck it dry until it turns to dust and blows away, as if it had never happened in the first place. Nothing makes it better. There is no medicine for some things. There is only falling...
There is only the occasionally maddening itch of a remembered limb no longer thurr...
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