the master of my heartstrings collide in to a hail of nail scratches and bitemarks your name is written in my blood on the ceiling as my corpse embraces the rug. your tears are like arrows in my chest, but moreso like spitting on a forest fire. the raindrops caress my head, but i dont get wet. being detached feels . this whole thing smells of broken dreams and admiration taken for granted. but when in rome..... my door is always open. ________________________________________________ sarah and lisa are fighting. actually is more like lisa and andrew are fighting, but in a more indirect kind of way. lisa claims sarah is not giving her enough attention, but sarah claims that it is lisa who is doing the forgetting. its is a tangled web of misguided intentions and bent trust. i dont like this one bit.