westid

are you real, or just another link in the chain? come over to my side, or is it another sad act campaign? you’re not leading me on, or driving me insane. my insanity is well driven in fact, crystallised by the pressure of prolific piss take procedure powered pain. what does it do when you feel yourself so far within arms’ reach that i can almost feel it drops too and then it starts pouring it down with rain

i want something real, not narrowed down to a selective stencil what writes off teaching me a thing or two. it gets harder to open up with all these lessons i’ve learned out of wanting to be turned who did their homework on me and earned extra credit for using my dreams to accomplish all the things that they wanted to put me through. i’m not drawn to the wrong people just because the right ones in all their genius didn’t occur that maybe deep down it’s something i won’t admit i want them to do. i wish i never frustrated the theo-logically elated, didn’t find me complicated, but patiently they waited. i never initiated, and so infuriated; i confess that it was unanticipated, oblivious at the time i intimated that somehow i was infatuated with people they absolutely hated. so no more am i illuminated, absent mindedly eliminated all for whom i was fascinated; i miss the enchantment, captivated. the heavenly people i’ve abdicated, whom i most appreciated, their departure made me devastated; so as i write, i’m situated beneath the moon. when you read me, and i speak of love it’s as though the sweet melody of all the things that happen to your life when you feel truly dedicated plays in my thoughts – a catchy tune