Understandable Stilts

I’m sick of feeling this blade, can’t stand jelly beans anymore, and Darth Maul became a Death Eater. And to make this week worse it’s only mon-fucking-day. I used to make sense with words, now I can’t stand to use synths or verbs. I lost my marker in the sand and the grains dried the ink, leaving my permanent marking cycling through the winds of a Florida beach. Where was I last night? How did Maul get my phone? Why am I the only room in my house of love? Why the fuck did Mom let them spread lies about protecting her when they were only having a genocide of her organs.

I need sleep, I need someone, someone to sleep with. Not sleep with, but sleep with. I can’t stand being around you and not just shouting how I feel, the sharp blades of denial would probably feel better than this suppressing pain. I just found out pink was red, I had my colors confused this entire time *now understands why people called me gay*. Metaphor for something I…. just won’t get into.

Being around an amazing woman has lowered my self esteem more than I thought possible. I’m starting to feel like a whore in a room full of virgins, an atomic bomb wrapped in a bouquet of damp flowers, fuck it. I’m having difficulties just trying to think, I swear I’m allergic to estrogen. I like the fact that this is the one place I can le it all out without anybody having a clue what I’m talking about.

Having too much to say….

Gives me nothing to say….

Unless she was reading then of course that would be….

Well awkward, but better than it being constricted in my vocal chords that I literally become speechless.

~-~/waldo finster/~-~