simple complexities from the mind of a pyrrhonian skeptic.
&&when, at last, you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter.. they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
mind like Manson. eyes like Dahmer.
beautifully insane. narcissistic and vain.
fell so deep for this girl i couldn’t find light in the abyss.
fell so hard i could only breathe through her kiss.
started imagining things that only i could see.
like maybe she had her heart set on someone other than me.
so i got a knife and set my mind on shedding blood and having a little fun.
if she didn’t want to love me then she would no longer live to love anyone.
i pried her window open and crept into her room.
drowning this small space in the essence of my perfume.
then i rolled around underneath her sheets leaving my scent on her bed.
too bad someone i loved so deeply would so soon be dead.
then i noticed her computer glowing vibrantly from the side of my eye.
i’d already gone so far, so why not spy?
opening her folders and reviewing all of her browsing history.
the person she’d been obsessing about was..
my mind will not be a mere flower, but a tree. ever-growing, impenetrable, towering into an abysmal sky. i want my thoughts to endlessly blossom and consume my inner self and all that inhabits my atmosphere in its urgency to spread its branches and grow. my roots will claw at every new word and wrap their thorny clinging grip around every molecule of new philosophy. …i want to simultaneously soar higher while sinking deeper.
don’t fuck with me.