  thoughts busy like flies buzzing round shit this is not a happy day this is not a happy day i'm in the corner crying;  in the dark demising i have never felt this way i have never felt this way her mouth stiched up like a rag-
doll's sore i can feel myself decay i can feel myself rot away rocking in the corner of my mind's prison cell proped up and leaning against my dark wall i can't stop thinking these paranoid thoughts and i wish sometimes that the roof would fall to be smashed on the head or beaten without end would give me a break from this angst- ridden life and let my soul descend problem after problem i'm starting to ask;  what's the point?
 why bother trying if you just end up losing?  in everything i do,  i only disapoint i'm sitting here now waiting for word from you but what use is a one way word to a mute beauty,  to whom happiness is long overdue 
