rancid is the sound of my voice, croaking it's drama across an orchestra of friendly faces, singing along with their dying concern.

this world doesn't matter to me.

i could lie to myself and say that i didn't think about it at all yesterday. but i did.
i could lie to myself and say that i will be able to get past this. but i can't.
i'm lying to myself, and you're kidding me.

red roses.

consumerism.

the two armed man.

spare me.

don't hold my heart in you while still in love with her.

creepy crawly.