I still bring home flowers I picked from a lot of different places
to place them in places they don't belong
to rot alone and writhe in places they don't belong in.
Flower beds and paper death.
I want to keep this one hurt to myself.
Not wanting to be found.
It isn't so bad to hit post-rock bottom, you know.
Now I get hurt and I laugh with all my heart, all
until I forget just how much I want to dissolve into the ground.
