“Maybe the way you seem to feel safe with your arms in mine means I’m not all broken maybe there’s something good inside.”

And you, you’ll always be the most brilliant mystery a masterpiece of october midnight hauntings my best dressed trauma at the evening masquerade.

What an absolute waste land loving you has become. Such a shame, to let it be any less.

Words lit low on kerosene pages, familiar comforts like asphyxiation.

Bad habits could’ve led me down so many worse paths than back to you.

Life won’t wait but you and I? we’re gonna live forever.

Thankyou for showing me not everything with love will leave.

Tomorrow will be the reminder that its all just a blur of oasis and vodka.

There’s a sincerely bittersweet truth in the way neither of us deserve me loving you.

Maybe the most perfect words I’ve ever heard, beauty and sadness, are these three. Not, I love you. But, Let it be.

There’s a destitute side, a breakdown in me. My subversive pursuit to finally be free.

All those questions that I was too afraid to ask? In the end I lay down cold welcoming the answers to tear me in half.

A hello from you can still bring me to my knees, set me free. More than any goodbye ever could.

Honesty, I don’t know how to love you less. Let alone not at all. I try my absolute best some days but this just makes me miss you more.

Its like you sat back and listened saw everything it would take you learnt how to hurt me perfectly and then could hardly wait.

I guess that’s the thing with forever you only get it once. So when you find yours in someone there’s not a thing you can do to forget and nobody else could ever come close.

They say what is lost can always be found in the last place you look but I wouldn’t be so sure that you’ll ever see this version of me again.

Legacy leaders are the only ones wiling to pay the price to fix a broken culture.

My moral compass is so broken I can barely find the parking lot.

Don’t tell me peace has broken out.

The great question in life is the suffering we cause, and the most ingenious metaphysics do not justify the man who has broken the heart that loved him.

Wholeness is the enemy of the artist. We ought to be broken, ruined in some way.

The Boskin Commission… was an act of cowardice. Rather than man up and say fix this, its broken, we can’t afford it.

I have no urns, no dusty monuments; No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose; no forged tales Of long descents, to boast false honors from.

Physical pain is a fact that comes with living, just as illness or financial woes or broken relationships are facts. But misery is a state of mind, a reaction to the facts, that can be controlled or altered by an act of will.