Dry Spell

Lately, I've taken more than ever to writing in my phone notes. I grow more decadent and unambitious everyday. And I'm the most selfish as I've ever been.

And this is the first time, that not everything on my phone is going up.
"Do I wanna know... if this feeling flows both ways?" -Arctic Monkeys: Do I wanna know
I'm inclined to write my own poems, and in a way they were the only true escapes from this surreal superfluous life. Each day I'm not sure if I should give up let go and channel nihilism, wondering aloud why the need for drama anyway. Or bank it on her. I'm not sure if I should be independent and force aside the rush, or let it out in overzealous tones~

I like how music writes like me. And I love her blog skins.

Please Simple

I don't want to be greedy

I just need to know it's right
I just want you to be there and be happy

at a quarter past 2, the deepest night

We should be no trophy or snatch

Just a shoulder, a hand, a lap.

I can't promise you answers I can

only promise ears.

I'll be faithful and sincere even after all the beers.

Simple and plain, an end to the permanent rain...
Ironic that I hate drama and pain.

When something means this much.

I don't like it when my poems get sloppy. Like you sort of know they're not as inspired... but it's therapy. Just a little.. hope that someone reads.

And I don't want to sleep because I feel so fucking empty.