just some shit i've written lately. they don't have titles.

there is a flaw in the evacuation plan and soon you'll see that the fires and earthquakes and floods are not the worst kinds of tragedy instead there's something else out to get me but it lives in a place that no one can see and routinely i've began to question my own sanity

sitting in a strangers house is anxiety producing when at any point they may walk through the door and disturb my solitude. i think that someone must still live here when there are eggs left in the refrigerator door, but i could be wrong and perhaps it's just what's left of what was once much more. this apartment is empty and the loneliness is only a phase, i know soon the noise will start and get to me. i should be thankful for what solace i've found in this obscure place and surely myself and the white walls will be well aquainted but the foreign feeling of it all is killing me. tomorrow is another day and if i feel like it i won't close the blinds when the sun awakens me, instead i'll welcome it like something that was meant to be.

the nature of darkness i know and these trees outside my window they laugh, because i drink too much and my sobriety is the long lost cousin of infidelity, it eludes me. i've made a fine art out of losing my way, and i'll swear if i have to crawl my way to my bed another day i'll burn it down along with these books and photos and clothes they are just things, not like you and me

i have almond shaped eyes and the only thing theyre good for is smiling and seeing through your lies.