Astoria what are you doing here singing giving in to sickness when I’m just lying here
I don’t want to hear the guitar’s mournful cry echoing in the night as the response drips into the rippling emptiness
Trying to focus on something other than the joke that is my life
I went all the way to his house and he gave me one look and said
Ew
Go away
In the nicest way possible
If there was a sickness to give in to I would have done so on my way home with the man whispering obscenities on the bus
My mind wants to find solace in the
The something in the guitar
I remind it soberly drunkly that there is nothing for us there just as everywhere I have looked
Phantoms
Aka
This is what it’s like to have an ugly useless bitch in love with you
I’m sure
The whispering stopped being whispering when I heard him say it
Can’t let this ruin it
Can’t let this make any difference
What this?
This that is and always has been the theme of my life?
Am I pretty?
No.
Am I worth it?
No.
Is there any point to this besides the misery I’m sure whatever is this universe feeds on to exist
Perhaps it will finally fucking die when those within it are happy
The last sad thing will be like
Ah yes, I am at peace
And
Insert universe reverse noise here
Because that is the only fate I can see in a reality with the rules I’ve seen
As soon as anything seems to be going right
It’s a fucking lie
Or it’s a precursor to something worse
There is no inbetween
No good
Just a fucking hell hole I wish would collapse in on itself and be fucking done with it already.
Elucidating Questions 
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