If you were church, I’d get on my knees. Confess my love, I’d know where to be. My sanctuary, you’re holy to me.

As long as I can make them laugh—it doesn't matter how—I'll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won't mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing; the wind, the sky.

You can’t wake up, this is not a dream. You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being

with your face all made up, living on a screen
Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

I’ve been wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions
for a piece to cross me over,
or a word to guide me in.

My shadow’s shedding skin

I’ve been picking scabs again

I’m down, digging through
my old muscles looking for a clue

“I knew that it was cruel
to be so optimistic, but, in my solitude, I couldn't resist the urge and spent entire days basking in idiotic fantasies, sometimes verging on prayer.”
Mieko Kawakami, 'Heaven'

Let our bodies lay, mark our hearts with shame. Let our blood in vain; you find God in pain.

Alright this account is now for borderline personality disorder bot posts!