Far far away In non-artist land
It's dark and quiet and nothing can hurt me now The day demons are dead
I can’t hardly breathe in daylight
Far far away In non-artist land
Garden of ugh
Need my monk prison death sentence haircut back
Existential dieting
Poking wounds with rusty spoons
It's dark and quiet and nothing can hurt me now The day demons are dead
To own desired objects
To be in love With candid kitchen you
I do want to add cooking to the very short list of thing I do which consists of basically sleeping and worrying
Everything dusty Springfield or dusty bin
To be in love With candid kitchen you
House sleepers important too
Weird is better than all them other fuckrrs who aren't you
Me I’ll overthink myself into 500 years of doubt and self murder
A day of thinking of being touched and not wanting to be touched Saturday A day
Poking wounds with rusty spoons
The horror of waking up as myself. Again
My heart is broken A muscle malfunctioning Not fit for purpose
A day of thinking of being touched and not wanting to be touched Saturday A day
just want something to soften the edges of my distress
silently screaming and contorting myself into awful shapes