another day, another ache. another alliteration to the absence of anything.
everything is issued in documents. it seems to me that the most important things are not, however society would like you to think otherwise. we hold the most powerful of documentations in our minds, and the strongest lock and key comes from the imagination. a gun to the head and a confessional blasted through brains. some rather be splattered on the ground than unlock those truths.
i may be a starving artist, but it has nothing to do with hunger. however i fear a full belly- once you reach that point where you crave nothing, you are either finished with this life or want to be. i would rather crave, as it keeps me on my toes.
i am famished for your touch. you are contaminated water to my lips; indecent exposure to my hips.
