Pale flashes seem to rise,
And when the Northern skies
Gleam in December;
And, like the waters flow
Under Decembers snow,
Came a dull voice of woe
from the heart's chamber
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
My obsession with relevance has killed me
Keep it cliché friend,
You lose your innocence when you realize how dreadful you really are
And that’s the truth with everything
Good god this life sometimes spins the wrong direction
It makes me dizzy, all we can talk about is disorientation and the places we have invaded in the dead of night without as much as a light, good god I think these are my best memories good god I think they are all demonic
A perspective is all that separates this and that
Good god I was never in control
