Overrated little shiny things. The morose feeling of distaste that chews as I walk forward creates nothing but excitement and cheer and potential celebrations. YOU(double underline in original piece) understand nothing, but also believe that there is nothing to understand.
Nights and days and Nights and Days and anger and pain. But nothing you understand. Now as my pen sweeps this page, you begin to understand that there was something more, but nothing less than the disregarded balls of trash, torn and smeared with blood and tears, tossed against these panes of glass so many times.
The candles burn down and the fire and flames slowly try to quiet and calm. But the ice cold liquid I use to smother them allows them to smoke and hiss and steam. And, for some reason, it makes me smile.
But, it's nothing that you would understand.