Garden of ugh
I’m ravenously feasting on bread. It’s expensive and bloatingly decadent
I give too many fucks I’m a careless fuck giver A promiscuous worrier
just want something to soften the edges of my distress
Denial and repression keep me breathing
No drama Except the shit I have in my head
Far far away In non-artist land
My corner shop only sells cancer and concrete
I tell the truth against my nature or with you the daylight sneaks in
I can’t hardly breathe in daylight
It's dark and quiet and nothing can hurt me now The day demons are dead
Far far away In non-artist land
Me I’ll overthink myself into 500 years of doubt and self murder
Big soft pig cushion
ppl with fewer feelings and nothing In common get married all the time
I do want to add cooking to the very short list of thing I do which consists of basically sleeping and worrying
Does nothing - shocker!
I only want your vision Not some useless other idea of you
Kinda inspiring but like Not cuz I can't do stuff
Greedy pig life
Garden of ugh
SITS IN CORNER FACING THE WAL
selfish spiteful mornings and suffocating silent nights
Existential dieting