Tuesday, November 3, 2009

you write poetry.
the poetry is imperceptive but you look profound when you are bent over writing.
everyone likes you because you don't interrupt them.
your clothes are cool. i think you wear dirty clothes.
you love my smell. but you can not fuck up. too perfect. please dont fuck up because i am not sure i would trust you if you did.
i am none of these things. i fuck up. i may die in my sleep, but that usually doesnt hurt.
i should be calm. i am going to sleep now.

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