by annex50

I live  a cliche.  to be understood.  I would say love,  but it’s unconditional.  at least, that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve crossed almost everyone.  I’ve learned and perhaps they’ve learned sustenance. maybe.  I want something more.  not because I know more. Suicide isn’t even satisfying: sniffles, pictures, others’ self-inadequacies, corpse. My mind is full of fuck you and woe. I don’t aim to tell my story; I aim for gratification and why not? My only real choice, if I had one, is that this life of mine never occurred. Not a woe is me but a waste of everyone’s time. Fuck you. It’s my only expression in my current state that feels good once in a while.