Oh World...

fuck...
Writing is like sex to me.

If only I could bloom. Entirely. I peek; i  peak daily. And then I rush back down like the Irish in my veins.
A gloomy bloomer is what I am haha.
"What plagues me nowadays," nobody but my impromptu Mother Replacement Model
And I myself ask me.
Hilarity. Ecstasy. The cracks of the lowest past depths.
My "best friend" who I haven't known for years, and my claim
on that term has yet to belong to anyone but God.
I pray while I walk and insist with the openest mind I've got
"take this from me take this from me takethisfrommetakethisfromme"
The first part of all my days but Sunday is that of a depressing sitcom,
and I look back on it every night as if I were a stranger.
Stranger, I have grown. In all ways.

Jason's got me crumbling, and mumbling weak little cries under the covers at night.
Because I love him so,
Only because I am fixable as shattered glass if he doesn't make this trip with me.
I know there are others,
I know I've got a list of people that Ive been serving warm beer for over concrete slabs, those that I will meet behind all the other doors other than this one here that I entered into.
One I never even chose.
A little late to turn around and run.
I've tried to find light by searching all the darkness,
and so far the new plan is fairing me so much better...half the time?
I know I'm going to be okay,
If rather just be fucking incredible with you.
If you don't make it...I swear to fucking God I'll burn this world to shredz.
It's too important to be a secondary lesson.
Let my love shine, and
Take this from me
     but don't take THIS from me
take this , but don't take THAT.
That's all I've fuxking got some days..