i flow smooth from sober to warm i am radiant with the feeling burning with it alight aglow & achingly lovely as a result i assure you though you will have to take my words for it there are no witnesses i am alone all alone is all we are.
indirect contradiction exists in the matter of this inadvertently bitten lip but what's a little broken skin between a girl & oblivion? aglow alight aflutter aflame & failing to fall out of love aside from that & this slight taste of blood fine fine awake aware alive oh fuck yeah.
the words which exist because of this are pleasure pure suggesting this exists for the words would a girl fall in impossible love just because the words it leaves her she will treasure forever? what if her only forever is in her own words what if this is enough what if it isn't?
do i write my life or live my words? what if the answer is yes & yes? what if writing them causes in me this trembling sense of something approaching significance which might as a matter of fact exist only within my self all alone is all we are goes hand in hand in this solipsistic existence in which i am to my self beautiful true made of my own language what if this is enough what if it isn't?
