ghostcomplex

From the coarse of a damper night, I just miss you. I just. In the bland of a well lite day, this isn't right. This isn't. At the point of view of a nulled out few, My Dear I wish. My Dear. A lack of end to any words, I can't even begin to pretend. I can't. Waiting for you, in the pose of what I know to be true. This is everything I will never get to tell. In the pose...

Come over. Connect. Converse. Correct. See me the second you know I'm on. Tell me the reason you took so long. It's been a while since the last delayed reaction to the demands I commend in my abstract fashion. But please, don't go away. Trust in Tuesday to make tomorrow seem so lame in comparison to today. With such clever word play, how could it all have gone so wrong. Tuesday comes, and now you're gone. Good bye. Reject. Silence. Counterfeit.

I never wanted anything more than the left alone. Tomorrow rises, sundown bears no surpises, to care no less, to wish no more. Love was a password to crashing compromises, you spoke the word, I fell to the floor. Never wanted anything more. There's nothing worse than to be proven wrong in your own right. Yesterday, I was fine without feelings, tonight, I am fine by your side. Tomorrow, I will be left alone with a sundown that bears no surprises, to remind me to care no less, and to wish no more.

What sweet tender override to lay out the space between these words well thought. What life exist in books and branded to a page with ink swell to produce harm or heart. I stain the conversation with a bitter drop of red from a tongue ripe of all the times to bite down and be still. I hope to hold not my blood from your sight any longer. I rip the pages to show the frail hold outside of the ideals and imagination running through layers of paper painted with the symbols of communication. Documentation. cold creation. Synthetic is exportation. I should be happier here. In the warm of our social grouping. I should be well lost in the storyl