What would you say if I wanted to drink my sorrows away tonight

I don’t care that flowers grow for you,
And me, and me
You don’t know what love is till you see,
Her standing there
A web of skin and nails and hair
A web of skin and nails and hair
And bones and bones,
And thorns
Rushing in, out her hair
You think you are alive, but you are dead
You keep, on driving in your car asleep
I’m driving in your car
I dont know why flowers grow in winter time
The sky turns gray the sun don’t shine
And people rush to be on time
For warmth they wrap themselves in woollen cloaks
And hats and scarves
Like larva in their incubators
And drive and drive
And drive and drive and drive
Until they get away

- Regina Spektor , Lounge

I want to cry and hug and scream and shake and stomp and collapse and squish these days away.

I want to run away from everything I know, everything I ever knew: my fears, my dreams, my hopes, my promises, my wants, my needs, my desires, my passions, my faults, my flaws, my iniquities, my joys, my sorrows, my attitutes, my values, my beliefs, my mindsets, my strengths, my weaknesses, my principles…

I feel irrational and on the brink of doing something irrational.

I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Bittersweet, bittersweet. I’m slowly growing fond of Southern Cross Station.

Too many shadows, too little light. I can’t live in grey areas because I only want to see black & white.

Caught between madness and gladness of flight.

Please. Don’t bother.