of rushed words and hushed thirsts

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Some call it love and some call it sex.
opposites.
Call it what you want, but with one touch and you’re gone, so call in sick.
Human politics, from whispered hushes and distant crushes.
Mental fits breakin’ pencil tips and
inkin’ brushes.
Simple rushes.
God makes man and this is the devil's finishing touches.
- Butterfly Effect -

beat, rhythm
questions, answers

follow my thoughts

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Tuesday, January 12, 2016

It's funny how I can't forgive myself for not having a clean slate as my past. It's illogical, because I know humans are created to learn from our mistakes, from our moments of weakness. But I can't get past it, I can't accept myself. Or I have, but as something undeserving of anything more. Because a mess should be cleaned and pieces that are broken shouldn't be kept, they should be thrown away.

So what do you do if you're that mess and that piece that's broken. How do you deal with something that should disappear in order for it to be fixed?

Ah, I wish I could disappear.

♥ 8:22 AM