so im talking to marissa. and i dont know what is going on here. we arent friends. but we are able to talk without yelling at eachother. improvement. curtis is a good listener. +nice. ♥ gah. everything is good. im writing again. and its ew. but whatever. He was killed. She read the words he never saw. Bound by them, she gradually concluded the end. The end. As for now, his deadeyes compliment the shattered tile. from cream to wine-red, the bathroom floor takes on a new illustration. there's nothing left now. fresh skin underneath her fingernails makes this reality. Imitationglass replicates her every move. crying. the smiles are concealed, but I know. I know. walk away, contradicting girl perish beneath the leaves, go now. they will never comprend your meaning of this. the trace of artificial love. leave him here. tiny girl. fragile, brittle. Did he try to tear you, little girl? You did it. guilty. you did it. Forever boundless. They'll never know. Forever gone. Never. Forever hidden. to the end, we'll know. (c) Needles and Thread Either shut the damn door, or tear it off the hinges. One way or the other, some one’s going to die. I want to show you something. Getting the nerve to stitch up my face once more; The pattern is more lovely than ever. The art is yours, darling. With so many unspoken words, and no beginning. A rejected conclusion. Breaking the silence, “You sew up beautifully, Baby” Hearing you, but not wanting to. I don’t want you here. Throw me up against that wall. If you don’t do it, I’ll do it myself. I know you want to. I’ll become the finest tailor. Sewing, stitching. My impeccable needlework in front of your eyes makes you proud to be a man. Calm down. Don’t go too far. I’m no surgeon. (c) yeah, i dont care if they suckfuckingass. only i know what they mean, and thats all i care about.