This feeling is necrosis. This air is carbon. This Georgia night, heavy/blunt… And I think of the books you never finished , and how you kept up with each. How you could ignore everything from your room in them. How you couldn’t break a habit to Stay alive.
—I’m just so mad at him. Or maybe I’m mad at myself more —-Just as much as I miss him. I wonder what he would say… What I would say…
5 years ago I was right out of high school having a mixed summer goin into fall… And we were talking about traveling again, going to Italy or Norway and where I would be 5 years from now„ 10 years then… Damn. Things change.
I’m not here today.
I’m on autopilot..
- sacred chant of the homosexual (via offwithurhead)