there is no truth, only pattern
so our existence is merely a personal interpretation of what we think we know and experience.

"am i dying or just waking up?"

don't forget to cancel our forever plans
and erase the sound of your tongue in cheek.
forgiveness means nothing when there's nothing to lose.
so take back those good intentions -
they're starting to rot and smell like you.

the road to hell is lined with your love letters.
all that's left is apathy, my other friend - you know, the one that's not fucking you.

what's worse, the truth or acceptance?
living with remorse or dying with regret?

is there a difference?

call me when you find happiness; and let him know i want to kick his teeth in, that treacherous fuck.

i am the world in which i create. i interpret encounters to fit my preset responses.