Nothing to Flaunt but my Loneliness

Patience is testing/Waiting is cruel

You look like you've been for breakfast
At the heartbreak hotel
And sat in the back booth
By the pamphlets and the literature
On how to lose
Your waitress was miserable
And so was your food

It's instilled... To want to live

Suicide Underground

Everyone hated the demise of our neighbourhood from the suicide of the lisbon girls. People saw their clairvoyance in the wiped-out elms and harsh sunlight. Some thought the torture tearing the lisbon girls pointed to a simple refusal to accept the world as it was handed down to them:
So full of flaws. But the only thing we are certain of after all these years is the insufficiency of explanations.

Lullaby For Someone Else

light my candles in a daze

“Emotions, in my experience, aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness,” “joy,” or “regret.” Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic train-car constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” I’d like to show how “intimations of mortality brought on by aging family members” connects with “the hatred of mirrors that begins in middle age.” I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” I’ve never had the right words to describe my life... “

- Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex

doped up and televised

nobody would believe the shit that happens inside my head.

Close your eyes and try count to seven,
And if we die, I'll meet you up in heaven
'Cause you're so beautiful..

I'm coming down from the drugs
and that seems like a sick play that I saw in a theater somewhere.