dark park beer post

I sold my soul. Hard work is a waste of time. I now know I'm feared by those who don't understand me.


Last night I hypothetically threatened a life of someone I thought I knew. "Why would you do that to me? How could you do that to me?" In one instance it was a gun and then a knife. I thought they were ready for that caliber of deep thinking. My vivid imagination met their impressionable mind, we shook hands and they invited me to their birthday party next month, just five days after mine. But only after he ran to safety.


We have funny friends, ones that we've always knew existed because we were shown all sorts of movies when we were too young. Our parents didn't have time for us like they wanted, so we all became orphaned to the path of least resistance, not so bad as a similar plight. Everything we could possibly remember, someone else does is and will, one step all around us. They knew we would be safe at daycare because the television doesn't have long fingers and ill intent.


I've met a lot of people in Seattle, not any more than I would've if I had stayed, but at least we're blind together here. I once had an eye and they pushed me away, I left because I had to.


I'm sorry I made her life a living Hell, even if it just lasted for a moment. I still don't know what that meant for her but I know what pain is.


I'm not old; I'm tormented, but that's an easy mistake.
Sarcasm is lost to the text.
I don't know your mind but I hope you accept mine.


I do terrible things. Everything I do is terrible because I am terrible. I am a product of a terrible factory that was walking distance from my childhood home and I was lied to, lied to, lied to.


There are two sides to the tapestry

one for you