Buttercups

The only medicine for the pain of something beautiful is more beauty.

The only medicine for the pain of love is more love.

Fuck me up against the wall.

Pull my hair. 

Yes, these are things I really want, if I say it that makes it true.

People don’t usually swear in front of me and I don’t know why.

The only medicine for the pain of loneliness is people.

The only medicine for the pain of people is loneliness.

No, wait! The only cure is love!

No, wait!

No one will be at my funeral.

I’m gonna live forever.

Isn’t that the point?

What have we been fighting for?

The cure for fighting is resolution.

Another cure for fighting is to simply grow tired.

I’m not tired, I’m so fucking tired I can’t sleep. 

You’ll forget me. 

No one will be sorry.

Leave them all behind.

No one likes me.

I love everyone. I hate them. I like three people, tops.

Tally up the Facebook likes. Dole them out at the golden gates.

Ahh, only 47 likes for you. You’re out. Our sincerest condolences.

We’re not dying.

How could we be dying when nothing ever happens?

Things happen, but how am I happening? How are you?

How are you?

Answer me.

I’M NOT WORRIED!

ARE YOU WORRIED?

KEEP ON SHOUTING!

WE MUST KEEP SHOUTING

IN ORDER TO STAY RELEVANT

AND HEARD

I EXIST

CAN YOU SEE ME?

Mother fucker, you have no idea!

Leave or be left! Leave or be left! Leave or be left!

Never going back to that house again, never said good bye.

I don’t know the telephone number.

I wouldn’t call you if I could.

There is no cure for me, or you, there is no cure for the in between.

I swear in my head all the time.