6:06 pm . stoic
& maybe you don't notice the irony that you're pouring it all out & i'm making a draught out of what you believe. & maybe i want to throw it down throats so every haywireheart has time to stop beating.

i never knew the answers, had the guesswork mapped out over conversation. & i tell you that it's just coming right out of my head but you mistake it for some sort of sincerity that hasn't ever burst under the strain. but it has. it's exploded under the pressure over&over again & everytime it seems to hurt a little less.

perhaps it means that i am dying.

nostalgia . uncertainty