I've run out of words.
Or maybe I'm being wildly over dramatic.Perhaps it's just because it's so cold.
I've been walking around with this sense of defiance, as though I'm on my way to fight a duel.
I do my best impression of someone who has risen above it all. That my heart doesn't ache.
That it only really aches if I listen to it's incessant...whimpering.
But all I really want to do is punch the next person who knocks into me as we pass in the street.
Mother..fucking bastard wankers.
Yeah,...I'm a little tired of London. Or maybe I just need to be lost.
I need to walk and walk and never stop for a while.
I need to go home to an empty house.
I stand outside in the dark. staring up at the sky.
I can't feel my fucking face.
my toes are numb.
and no matter how violently I may shake my head,
his name is always on the tip of my tongue,
his voice in my head.