"Nevermore" isn't half of it
pounding in my ears, to help me through just one more hour of daylight. I can pretend to be bored and return to my bed, turn to my book, an historical romance, happily drift off to sleep; if sleep isn't suicide, I don't know what is:
pounding: a locomotif remix
Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair
Nina Simone & Jaffa
as inevitable, as ominous, haunted as dripping black tears, fatalistic as ever because love always dies & f. we're mortal even if it doesn't
we're sad
we hope to be happy & will try a thousand paths
like this: pounding chug-a-chain percussion SO
what other conclusion to draw? keep moving
thing to do
He put his feet up again. Reached for his best buddy: a stiff drink.