'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
fingers like cigarettes and i wonder if you kill yourself on the daily;
and the words seem to be leaving me: this i cannot describe and i guess you are drunk out of your mind all of the time and i can't process, you are smiling all the time and i just want sleep to take me and not return me, this feeling i am suspended as i cannot lead myself over any edge anymore --
language is leaving me and i wish to sedate this day and i can't fathom even eating: my stomach ripped out and tears dry as paper flowers.
seven stitches seven devils; i hope you drown your demons in drink, mine will not fly away so easily.
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