slept under the bridge of east river park last night drunk on wine, cuddled up on my princess skye's shoulder watched the sun rise and talked about the old days, laughing about how my first impression of her she was chasing someone with a machete in the national forest in florida. days here are always chaos. the girls in my life are all broken butterflies i love/hate and watch them break like glass I sit and dayream cause theres nothing except cardboard signs here and me sitting half dead while they snap photos on the other end of this illusion while i sit with eyeshalf open and seperate the sides, always being afraid for tomorrow.
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sometimes i wish the balloons would heal the pain, they only ease it temporarily and then end up causing twice as much later. i'm keep banging my head on that same door though, hoping someday someone or something different would answer me.
always free.
thinking of you. come to dallas.