This is going to be total and complete gibberish.
EDIT: No, I'm not going suicidal, shut the hell up.
Lately, I have treasured the distance each of your photos lets me keep. Significant whiskey allows me to dance with you, but I am now out of reach. As I wake to another day that believes in that same impermanence, it leaves me with more evidence that love, like a vulture, is no accident. I take no pleasure in confessing the squalled lows I’ve fallen to. If it’s any measure, a junkie offered me the same despair he planned to use. Such discord writes its own song...but you were the one with eloquence. You said of men, “I beat them until boredom comes”. And like a vulture, it will be no accident. Lately, I think the lips you let me cover until we were out of breath...I see you in your Chaplin hat, your mini dress, your black fishnets. Feeling the mass inside your heart marking tears as unnecessary evidence. “You will be fine”, you said. “You will be a model for others”.
And like a vulture, it will be no accident.
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BAHHH.
NO U.
NO UUUU
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