Murphy

I can answer my own questions till my brain hurts - I could draw analogies to brick walls and pounding reds and sandpaper tongues, but you get my drift.

I have world-to-explode-in-your-face scenarios lined up in neat, pedantic rows adrift all that in my head, just bursting to happen and

I've surrounded my life around you, and I think it's time to stop, and so do you. I can answer my own questions and it is fucking with me.

.

How long will it be this time, love?

Anything short of.

I'd say I care too deeply, far too much, actually, but I doubt that would mean anything to you. You place me up against par, comparing, watching, silently biding time seeing how I fall short. Always. Well, you should still know, the last time was a mistake, and that I care, I care, I care, and I'm here, always. We're fucking immaculate.