اگزیستانسیال

مکانیزم ماشه فقط من، دیوارِ اتاقم، تفنگ و این داستانا.

ببخشید اما میشه در حین فعال کردن مکانیزم ماشه و این داستانا، این ماشهِ شاتگانی که تو دهانِ مبارکِ بنده هست هم فعال کنید؟

آخرین جمعه تابستون رو هم با ترکوندن مغز و اعصابم بخاطر فکر کردن به تابستون‌های سال‌های گذشته که قرار بود بترکونم اما نترکوندم، ترکوندم.

i mean it's kinda hot to be dead, but not get murdered by a sick psychopath singer.

imagine being so sick to kill ur ex and write multiple songs about how joyful and hateful you were about her at the same DAMN time.

hey you fakeass idgaf person i saw you having a 4 hour floor time and sobbing like a dog about it.

i really wish i could don't give a fuck, but there are so many fucks in me and since i'm a very generous person, I would love to give them about anything.

imagine taking shit behind me and i literally don't give a fuck. (i mean i give and actually will cry about it, but not now. maybe later soon)

a real footage of me about how am i doing:

now we're cutting at the seams, we're the death we choose to keep. now you pull me under, put me down❤️.

deep red stains, bitter ecstasy. bleed my veins, keep your hands on me. i will make excuses when you use me for my friends to see, shed my skin and soul just to be the thing you need from me🕶.

your love rots when i touch too much. twist my thoughts, share your pain, make me yours, that’s the game.

your touch cuts when i beg too much, carve your name into my chest, make it last, no rush 🤩🤩.

این تابستون رو واقعا نزدیک بود بترکونم، ولی خب موشک در اتاقم رو باز کرد و دید درحال فاسد شدن رو تختم. سر همین نظرش عوض شد رفت یه‌جای دیگه رو ترکوند.

i am a bag of problems pretending to be human.

and just because it hurts, doesn't mean it's working.