| i am my art. |


breakfast lunch din-dinScrambled dreams with my butter-fried hope, along with my sauteed heart, go with your orange juice words.breakfast lunch din-din
But you broke my fine china lungs, and forgot our spoon&fork lips. So now we can't fill our stomachs with the poetry we've made.
So we have to say good bye and go ahead without breakfast, and we'll wait until our argumentative lunch, or our surgical dinners.


in the middle of the night"Tell me again why you're here."in the middle of the night
"You need me."
"Do I really?"
"Yeah. You've still got those stupid issues."
"I'm insulted."
"I'm here to keep you company. I don't need to be nice."
"It would be better if you were."
"I'd rather be real."
"You're not, unfortunately."
"At least I'm not the sixteen-year old who still has an imaginary friend."
"At least I'm not IMAGINARY."
"Weak."
"Shut up. Damn it, why didn't I make you a nice person."
"Because that would be boring. And you like
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