1Bicket.

the day is saved. where a place where no one will read would finally be updated. nothing of a good thing, if youve been following but i dont know much about myself at all. Mono-type defeciency and the lack of sanity, and i think im a fifteen-faced creep with nothing to do in the future. i will become senile and wonder why everyone is somewhere else. not here.

because i never was to be.

it makes things worse when i apply my hand, and i think i would make a horrible teacher, for everyone would fail. i could never do medicine, for a multitude of diseases would spawn by my hand. engineering would be the bane of a thousand thousand, and anything to do with applied science would cause catastrophic anomaly.

i see a complex number, and it looks much prettier than my predicament.

i have to live with me.

nothing good. nothing good.
God im sorry.

it seems that the more i do, the less i achieve, and as such, i seem to have been doing alot, although this is counterproductive to anything i seem to say. think higher. if i think i do what i think i do, then i do what i think i would do, thinking that what i do would cause what i think to do, think. and when i do it, i think i do what i do. And when i do it.
it'll fall apart.

i dont know. maybe its the mirror talking. but i dont care. i dont care anymore. i dont care. i dont care. i dont care. i dont care. i dont care.

constant mess ups and a mouth that spits acid.
acid tongue.

catch my own tongue and burn my hand, leave a mark for the future Pan,
slay the dragon, feed the soul, burn another, creep and troll.
bleed through my eyes, and festering pain, nothing i can do, curse of cain.
twas twilight that highlighted my folly, puppetmaster, i am another dolly.

nothing good can come of me. nothing good. i apologise to my parents.

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so it seems when you conclude that things are in your stride, that the very strides you tread are those that cause the ripple, then so id think id stop walking, for the greater good. not that im any good in the first place.
Onward (everyone else.)

hold me close. to the fire.
i need to molt. bolt. volt.
death and rebirth. and death.
deaf. in the land of the deaf, the ear trumpet is king.

whirlpool. in my nose. and going up to my brain. or now lack of.

i guess i havent been much good for anything lately.
always seeming crabby and all that.
well.
i didnt think so either.

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cannot. cannot. cannot.
cannot. cannot. cannot.
cannot. cannot. carrot.

9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9x9 = far too much to count with my fingers.

i aggravate and agitate, i weaken and despond.
i confuse and terrorise, i break and destroy.

learn the enemy who is within yourself.
just that, i dont know.

im afraid it'll hurt less and less.
it cant come to that.

it cannot.

the more it hurts. the better.

how apt. i remember it was one of those days close to children's day. Again.
well. brainwave for you.