one lonely success

so the slow song plays…

this is the stuff of heart-broken melodramatic teenagers. But when wet tossled hair obstructs your view, your perspectives become unforgivingly skewed.

this is a night for rhetorical questions inexplicably answered in the first person. this is a night for grammatical devices to be overused with unapologetic flare. this is a night for non-sensical writing.

charactures of ourselves are too often accurate.

“ring-around-the-rosie-pocket-full-of-posies”

we all fall down.

the world is getting crazy and blury and broken and drunken and forgetful of what forever means.

our plans to change the world have failed and made to feel insignificant.

cross yourself and say thank you.