Penicillin

I need a cure I need a cure I need a cure I

have simple issues, so simple, so small, so so small…

You know, some people get depressed but

I just find some things depressing.

Not that I’m sad. I’m ok it’s

ok.

These things they can be sad and wrong these things that we wash our faces with and erode our lungs with.

They drain my blood until my hands are paper.

The canvas in the mirror bores me.

So blank.

I’m sick of everyone improving, everything changing, flying, shrinking, moving, twirling, leaving, returning, loving, loving, loving…

Hating.

Shouldn’t I get these simple concepts? It’s not hard. They tell you it is but

it’s not.

But everything costs money it’s all money and time so

little time too many days too many pennies too many pounds…

Too many pounds.

Nurse?

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