frills thrills

she never looked nice.
she looked like art.
and art wasn't supposed to look nice;
it was supposed to make you feel something.

i just want to pack up and move away. somewhere new. where people don’t live in graves, and their names aren’t on the headstones that fill up all the cemeteries.  

few people know how to take a walk. the qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiousity, good speech, good silence, and nothing too much. 

if you were here today you’d probably laugh and say we’re worlds apart.

"how do you stay sane?"

"who said i was sane?"