Frowning Fortune
by Damages· from Love's Labor
how many more lines until my pen runs dry? how many more sighs until my lungs will fucking die? if i were more verbose would i matter to you? if i won you over, would i get back the life i "knew"? i feel ugly now just like i felt ugly then, i might have even felt love, but i can't remember when. february through august of two thousand and four? god, it's hard to think when your heart is on the floor. thoughts/nightmares that call for constant defeating makes it harder to feel like death's worth cheating. "living in thralls: heart is bleeding, all help needing"... without love to fill the void i just keep on eating.