date 2

i miss the thrill of your voice and how your eyes seemed to shine in the right questions. they still do, don't get me wrong; they're beautiful as ever but the thrill, oh no the thrill is gone like dead among the living. you're not even trying to save us you're just tired of the whole damn thing and i'm tired of being surprised by the stupidest of words

the art of keeping up silences

okay alright there's no need to be poetic. i'm not poetic and the whole thing is just plain fucking absurd. it's like i'm living in a constant white noise and it's repeating your name, your name in the darkness and in dreams. it relives the past that i can't forget and maybe you believe that it wasn't such a big deal. like seriously how can't anything be but a serious fucking deal? really? i admire the capacity you have of keeping me thinking and keeping up the art of appearances when i think i might just be the most t r a n s p a r e n t human in the city. and it makes me strong, you know. i'm not afraid of who i am, i'm only afraid of who you think i am. really. where are you? where are you?