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Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses Yearning to Breathe Free
I'm sorry not sorry But I think you thought that stale moldy crumb growing some green shit on the edges would be enough to feed me That half formed thought that you said with your eyes all glowing and half open looking clear and somehow pure would be enough to entice me That kiss you ended in the middle to talk about I cannot remember what would be enough to hold me over until the next one That my arms aching the morning after from holding you so tightly would hold on interminably I think you might have mistakenly believed that I'd be down for waiting for the person you seemed like See my dear - when I was your age I could have run circles miles, around this bull shit the game player bull shit artist to end all bull shit artists but that is a fake life and I am so utterly done with that now So if all you have is partial kisses, and some vague, abstract need to be free horse sh...
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