it makes me so cold. it tears at the edges of my minds and it's tiny mouths that are lined in fouth irony with small, sharp, papercut teeth. they whisper into the cracks in my brains and the mist turns into spirals, it turns into spiraling images and the shutter in my hand goes off, and as it does the sun explodes and the image that's nothing more than the overexposure of a cheap shadow. wave. after wave, and it's so cold.
i light a cigarette. don't touch it, don't touch me. you fucking cunt.

my life is not here. it's here.