little thoughts bring up bigger thoughts,

little hopes bring up bigger hopes
and love
and illusion,
and delusion eventually.


Intenta seguir siendo torpemente tú.

the anticipation of not talking to you

o la facilidad con la que nos domesticamos los que nos queremos creemos salvajes.

and still I smiled,

but I would rather have
just left.
I'm afraid
I will never be
the one who treats you the way you need
without you
having to ask
for it.

what's the point

if you don't hate
die
and kill
for love?