Bloojhay
- Love
What we've caught is reckless love; the kind that burns out on the surface but keeps you too warm on the inside. The kind where you just don't say because you mostly don't feel it anymore, even though it's mostly all you feel when you look at them. Then you're just hollow inside, because those two states cancel each other out. Numerators and Denominators and maybe the soul is just a system of numbers. That would explain why so many things cancel each other out when they try to multiply.
Lostkeyword
- Interest
It's like you've been ripped open, and I'm squatting down beside you like a two-year-old next to its run over dog, and poking at the still warm guts of a dying creature. You're bleeding words and sound and emotion and I'm there, watching, wondering. I've got your blood on my hands and I'm tempted to taste it. It's beautiful. You're not supposed to be mesmerized by such a scenario, but I still am.
