stillbirth

well, realizations come and go. thoughts travel out, hang in the air, and then fall to the ground. much like people do.

this blinking cursor will be the death of me. there it sits, taunting me. <i>writewritewrite <b>delete</b></i>. these words (that don't really exist) lay in my mind, but then there is a wall. they do not travel out like thoughts. they stay and rot, stinking up my mind with filth. i walk around all day with the scent of bad fruit in the back of my mouth.

babble babble. mhmm