Love with a whole heart, or not at all — not even a little.
I write what I feel, and I let it go.
It’d be far more interesting to kick someone in the knee, watch them drop, and then use your own knee to bludgeon their nose further into their face.
We point at the path of sticky entrails and we blame you.
There is mad, mad joy to be found.
This can’t bode well, can it?
Living in my head, it’s not such a bad thing.