The lovesong writer

*
Sitting alone in the dark of the stadium
He whispers his secrets into a cheap guitar
With the flick of his wrist he turns words into melodies
Chords into church bells that fill up the alleys where
Lovers entwine in the heat of the night
And by dawn are apart in the shivering silences
We will pretend
That it's all just made up
-The lovesong writer, Thursday

The primary school kids are singing the national anthem.

I can hear individual voices all the way from up here.

They'll certainly grow up to be patriotic model citizens.

I was randomly going through all the junk I keep in my thumdrive and I found this;

lips like sugar says:
right
neurasthenia says:
left
neurasthenia says:
to the left to the left
lips like sugar says:
everything u own in the toilet to the left
neurasthenia says:
In the toilet bowl, that's my shit
lips like sugar says:
yes if i shit, please eat it
neurasthenia says:
and keep eating that shit that's just shit

*

-You forced me to become strong when I just craved being weak.-