she was done before her body hit the bathroom floor. he was throwing his phone to the road. it’d never done him good before. both sick of waiting for something more to strike an off-chord. he was sick of being clean; he sullied too fucking hard. she was dancing with disease trying to break the only body she’s got. i’m sorry all, but i cannot catch you in freefall. it’s hard for me to relate to these fucked up problems that i don’t even got.