broken world media

Nausea
Arrows In Her
Nausea

Ever notice how things are a blur when they’re passing by? But everything gets clearer, when they’re too far behind. You can see right through me.

Now, when I feel destructive I conceal everything right down to my bones. Then everything hurts when I hear the sound of your voice.

I find my life is constantly swirling, cliche as it sounds, like leaves in the wind- twirling in unpredictable patterns until the wind slows down and stops again. But leaves crumble under foot and are commonly left to die in the sun- I find myself begging for drops of rain to grace me but I realize that there are none.

- Dying Leaves 

Go On, Tell Me About Foucault
Arrows In Her
Go On, Tell Me About Foucault

I am deficient, and damaged. After all, You’re worthless, but I can’t help but care.

Can you go on like this for long?

You are efficient, at fucking things up.

Go on liken this to all that’s good and right, you’ll find that you go on, like nothing’s wrong. Your pride comes at a cost.

When I think, back to that night, to the call that failed, I nearly fell in two. There is no god that I’d pray to anymore. I don’t want one to.