all into the fuckin orbit.

nothing boils down to nothing.
i tremble, i wail, i kick up a fuss, i bury my pathetic, hot, face into these miserable hands, inside these four fuckin walls, i let the stabbing feelings of i don't know what pound over and over again until i command for it to stop , becos i know, it all boils down to nothing, so what's all these for?
every depth of these shallowest forms of endearments i hold are ridiculous strings of fancies, hollow fills, of maybe a hollow heart, or something more. something ugly, and very foolish.
and yet, to a silent horror, I adore.
that these empty materials could mean something more, more than should one say abominable?
let that bitter, angry, ugly bile rise and fall, a turmoil of nonsense, i wish i could just break something.
for these things that mean nothing, could mean everything.
i feel, as if, something's been torn, stabbed, then ripped carelessly from my remaining happy happies.
a couple of useless, beautiful threads, no more.
no more.
i wish i was more.
sorely, and undeniably bitter, i try to scramble for more useless things to soothe the damage.
they never do.
fuck them all.
and suck them all.
right in.
into the fuckin useless absorbing orbit of i can't do nothing about it at all.
nothing boils down to nothing.
after the whirl, the burn, and the waterfalls,
u just have to learn how to chop, dice, and smash that fuckin shit into smithereens.

and these are my infernal affairs.

let me breathe.