silbs
there's a puddle of mud on the floor. i look at it and feel bile rising on my throat. mud makes me sick. everything makes me sick.
later on, there's a puddle of bile almost close to the puddle of mud. i feel sick yet again but i go away.
from everything that makes me sick.
everything makes me sick.
pins and needles
stop
i feel a prick
blood circulates
it flows
pins and needles
i feel it coming
the pain
pins and needles
pins and needles
what do i have to do
for me not to step
on these pins and needles
pins and needles
any more
pins and needles.
Love is a result of hormones from the brain.
The heart can't feel anything.
Why is it called heartache, then?
Why not brainache?
People should stop blaming the heart and start training the mind.
These are the only thing I could hold on to. Branches. To keep me from falling to my death. To keep me fro falling to my end.
I look down and gulp. If I fall, I;m surely to be in pieces,
The branch creaks along with me. Is this my end? Funny how one day I couldn't pay attention to the thing that's now holding my life.