eternalism is depressing. your face is depressing. i can't wait - daily - for you to touch your piano. i can't wait until you obliviously play my biography in segments - unpaused diarrhea.
time is depressing. your chase is depressing. warm, but depressing. as i rethink, all manifests as love letters - love letters i hate, elaborations of an indefinite fate to an imaginary you, a lover in my head. the natural inclinations of my fingers that either type or write. exclusive sways, intrusive clicks don't take me elsewhere, take me here. exclusive trajectories from illusive inhales to elusive exhales and you.
-who said that big bad wolves must not come close to my balls?