Breathe in tight, this is going to hurt

"You need this - trust me, you need it."

Sense the urgency when he tells you 'Breathe in tight, this is really going to hurt'.

Turn the excess into muscle; time for a Jesus pill binge.
Turn my water into wine; here's the devil himself in a syringe.


This lethal nectar will distort and destroy, it'll make you better than God did before.

You don't get it, you just don't get it.
You don't get it, you just don't get it.
You don't get it, you just don't get it.

I'll never be as perfect- no matter whatever I do.
It's okay, it's just another pain you can get used to. Learn to be comfortably numb.

All in all, it's not about death or dying. It's about stopping the pain.
Yet again I'll ask, can you stop my pain?

*

I like lying flat on the ground, back pressed tight against prickly grass- our very own Strawberry Fields Forever, Jean!- talking, the bright skyline arcing around us, "stargazing". Singing along loudly (albeit very badly for me... Jean, on the other hand, sings like an angel) to our favourite Beatles songs (remember to load up on them the next time) and making plans for the future. Hopefully Greece will be fulfilled. Mm, Mediterranean.

There are very few people I actually want to give a fuck about; I'll try to keep them countable this time... On my fingers and toes. I seem to forget I have my own limitations. I'm tired of caring for people who don't give two fucks about me in return. Ah, well. I send hugs and kisses to all my real friends.

*

Yeah, and for today I am grateful for Jean (who spent an evening walking around Cityhall with me) and the demon with the hardcore sesame street hoodie and sudden inclination towards piercings (thanks for the encouragement). Also Norman "UP".