one eats one's heart, one eats one's words and soul, just like one eats one's deeds. one preys on them, shoves them down one's throat. like a convicts last meal. bitter sweet scumbag souflé. you devour yourself. and like it. untill all there's left is the very essence of what you really are. all the hurtfull peacefull, soul wrenching, bowel liquifying, heartbreaking little tiny shrieveled bits and pieces of what you really are. and if you can piece them back together you're very probably the luckiest of fellows alive. but man, oh man does one need the perfect glue...
- if you find it cherish it. -
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