Fleeting, fading, failing, flailing
Words. Words could be written here trying to explain myself, but all would fall short of the glory and brilliance of my insanity. The gloriousness of my descent into madness is not for the tongues and speech of men, but rather is to be committed to memory and whispered in hushed tones in days yet to come.
In lieu of my own words, a selection of tones written by other men, more handsome men, than myself:
"Don't waste your time cause the boy's bad news."
"So if you think you need to go,
if you wanted to be free.
There's one thing you need to know,
and that's that you can't count on me."
if you wanted to be free.
There's one thing you need to know,
and that's that you can't count on me."
that's when I knew that I could never have you,
I knew that before you did.
Still I'm the one who's stupid,
and theres this burning, like theres always been.
I've never been so alone, and Ive never been so alive."
I know...I can't keep it all together,
And there's a memory of a window.
Looking through I see you,
searching for something I could never give you.
And there's someone who understands you
more than I do."
My madness vented for another evening, this venom drained, I say goodnight.
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