Isn't it neat, how our body ticks?

With this unnatural piece of mess, we ain't going nowhere.
Just a metronome timed to panic my stricken breathing.

Warning, subtle melodramatic drama queen rant coming through. A bunch of craps to be inhaled.

We could paint our torrid love story with the reds on your perfect buttoned up shirt and maybe you'd let me smell your hair and gentle skin for one last time before I take off tonight. And by then, your vicious acrimony would be long in every edges of my mind, playing over and over again. When the night falls on my shrinking and vapid body, I would tremble as I look at the stars up above that I wish to be, far far away from your perfect hands, soul and eyes. Stray into your ultimate absence that will deeply welcome me with yearn and delacrimation, keeping me stranded in time and there's nothing but air. I wish you'd hold me so tight in your arms that it gets so hard to breathe, I'd die right away. Cause I can't seem to think of anywhere else that will do. Now I will try not be fractious as I was, and throw away all of our perfunctory speeches that only to our ears, we slur with fucks and leeches. Could we go down any deeper than this? We don't need this, we don't want this, do we? Well, I sit and wonder from time to time whether it's alright to try to conflate this piece of mess which has made us so hollow, fragile and tender. But as it all goes down, I hope we won't burn out in angry flames, as everything just hurts so well.

Hold on to your kite. Just don't let me down.