You’ve become as soft as your ever-soft prick.
I bet you thought it would be different, being human.
…sharp teeth of an angel.
Love with a whole heart, or not at all — not even a little.
I write what I feel, and I let it go.
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.
I’d love to make you smile now but it’s not the state I’m in.