Stretched so thin. Like not enough butter over too much bread.
Pull.
and an imploding sensation ripples through my veins as the creditors demand their payment...
(CRUSH)
(no time for romance. no time for sweet stories. not a droplet of beauty lays within my finger tips. I have to get out of the woods before I can relax again. give me two more weeks of this death and I'll be back to my self.)