till all my sleeves are stained red


from being too honest to care,

i am aware sometimes, but i cant stop feelings

its.. torturous to know how it will go, how it will end, how i might feel

and not be able to change it.

not able to release it,

i cant talk about it, because it legitimizes what i am denying.



and here comes the cheesy posts,


chiselled features, chocolate body,
old eyes that pretend to be young just so he can do his job and get along well.

expensive tastes and visual whore,

i can never figure you out, and i can never stop myself either,

even if i know i like them for all the wrong reasons.