I don’t mean to put pressure on you, darlin’/ but i might just not kill myself/ if you’d sleep with me tonight/ they won’t pass a law, to make you love me/ but girl, for what it’s worth, i’ve got a knife.
tomorrow starts a four-day swordfighting frat party with people who know eachother by made up names and wear funny pants. it’s gonna be kind of radical and hopefully will pull me out of my funk. i hope whatever you’ve got going on is equally cathartic.
Every once in a while, i catch one of their scents, briefly, always gone by the time I’ve associated it with a person, never sticking around long enough to be fully picked apart. the mean spirited druggie smelled faintly of chlorine, a member of a swim team at her old art school. to my memory it has only been triggered once, when i received a hug from a lifeguard. The immature poet always...
i just know better is all.
And my hand was never emptier, than when you held...
—Lies, and other stories i tell.
Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier...– Homer, The Iliad (via jaimelannister)