chilling in my room, bleaching my hair, painting my nails, listening to records, wondering about the lump in my throat, worried about the red in my eyes, dreaming about life in the warmth, considering making musik, feeling like a loser, remembering things, getting angry again, then sad, then to forget, smoking cigarette out my window, lighting incense to mask the smell, needing to change the record again because there's only four songs, guitar's out of tune, too lazy to tune, wanting to paint, too lazy to set it up, wanting to go to sleep, writing, turning, swallowing, sleeping.
And despite all i do, i can't get that creepy exorcist sound byte out of my crazy melon. My brain is sweet and seedy.
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