Run like hell

“It’s a slow decline into nothingness.”

That’s what I heard, anyway. Those words that vibrate beneith the thin disguise of hope and dream and make believe. Where sometimes some thing is said, but it means another thing that’s totally different or a thing that’s the same but more or it could mean exactly what it is and less. 

The fragile state of Make Believe.

A friend who I want to love said: “The city has its talons, gripping tighter, bleeding us out. Dont play dead, break the hold. Run like hell”

And “don’t stop”

No one said “don’t take my advice”. So that’s what I’ll do. Not listen. Make shitty choices. Crash.

The city is gripping me by the throat. Half it’s bite on my scruff saying “you’re safe here, I’ll carry you home to total destroy.”

And I’m thinking, what the fuck is home anyway? What the serious fuck. And how do all you people do this shit every day of your lives? Because I don’t belong here. I never will. I can’t make myself fit in anywhere. I’ll keep trying.

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