How fucking pathetic: A beautiful mind like mine.
The wind is overwhelming.
It's not me, but at the same time it is.
I woke up to find that my legs were wet concrete.
I didn't panic; my only reaction was a defeated crumpling.
I felt like crying, but all I did was contort my face.
Got out of the city, still the fucking same.
How funny it is to not reply to emails that I myself prompted!
I built this house.
It'll outlast me for certain:
The same pace of rot erodes the body far sooner
Than it does these floorboards.
You may not be able to see it
Even in ten years' time, but of course it's there.
On me, though, one bad week
And I wear it like makeup.