our hobby is to kill kids
i opened my books. see, i can do it.
our hobby is to hate ourselves and everyone around us
lights out its all the same darkness
theyre all the same dark clouds, right?
tongue between my teeth to hide the underbite
you make me think of god
strictly a matter of comfort
strictly a matter of filling up some holes
an instance of wholesale belief that im fucking all my potential
that as lofty as my goals may a platypus cant change its beak
im looking for a concrete wall
i want it to be thick so i can smash my head in
i wanna split all of my knuckles and then just sit around and cry
just let me stay asleep
its too cold to stand or leave