Pretty typical shit in Book Title.

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

Misery is the only thing that comes to mind presently.

I falter.


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.

No comments.

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.