Notes from the Iphone.

How ironic is it that the life we are “supposed” to live is the hardest to grasp.

Everyone wants to be free and happy but are bound by the very things made to destroy us
We weaken by lack of our own poison. Addictions form out of simple minded decisions that become repetitious in a way only snakes could understand
It’s like we have fluid for bones the way we slither our way to the path of destruction
Trapped in our own mental fucking cages. The wages of sin is death.
Or so we’re told
We’re given options yet still criticized by our choices.
Everyone gives a fuck.
Everyone fucking cares.
Don’t let anyone ever told you they dont give a fuck, they clearly fuckin do.
The feeble minded are in awe by what seems to be examples of courage
He can drink tons of liquor prior to his destruction
The night terrors awake him every hour on the hour greeting him with darkness and cold sweats
4 hits of acid and she’s the life of the party
She is lost in a world that is not her own, her mind.
Her demons visit her in the beds of others
They make the bed she sleeps in
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