time to let my guard down and lie down with the flowers in the sunshine. i need clear skies, real clarity to tear down the layer fills and masquerades, the beauty stops. its like sandpaper on the retinas, nothing burns so real or so brightly. so darling im in a sticky situation, do i sign away everything i write, but then whats the point of writing? if it’s now not even mine to begin with.

so it will be back to the bus trips, becoming one of the hostages and listening to old lady conversations. i can’t sit still, i’ve been through it once and i don’t have the heart to sit through another re-run.

Everyone is an actor in this amatur movie, and i want out of it.
I can’t dissolve into this script without knife in my back for my pen trails.