Pretty typical shit in Book Title.

  • Dec. 5, 2017, 2:22 a.m.
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  • Public

Misery is the only thing that comes to mind presently.

I falter.

Hesitate.

Know better but can’t seem to help it.

My heart is such an idiot.

I’m envious and ashamed. Making a scene by showing my ass. Red in the cheeks from kicking myself. I wait, rigid, paranoid, expecting each vibration to carry your footstep to my eager ear, scared. Foolish as I am gullible. Masochism made flesh. Bated breath. I miss the familiar pain, the blood on my tongue. I’m hungry for violent flattery. Tell me you love to hate me.


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