Tears and Lipsticks.

This is not a addiction.
Yet.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
Not needed.
It just takes you into a false world, containing false dreams and false romance.
Leaving you to wake up to the harsh reality of things, turning over to discover that your still stuck in that same bedroom.
Same walls. Same images. Same clothes. Same music. Same books. Same life.


Richmond Superking visited me again today.
10 of them.
They soon went.


Love poetry again.
Slight vomit in my mouth. Perhaps cause I felt myself relate to them.

Fuck. I think to much into things.

Richmond has come to visit again. Along with another addiction.
Help is needed.

Addictions.

A blog?
Why do I do this to myself?
Another addiction to add to the collection?

Smoking, yet again, a whole box of the joyous Richmond Superkings.
Less then the 24 hours.
Gone.

Even though I know you will be the death of me, your my release.
I often wonder whether that last sentence was about my smoking habbit, or my habbit of Him. They are similar in ways. I cant go a day without thinking of you in my mouth. You cost me money, that I dont have. Yet I always seem to gather the scraps , to feed this addiction.
It must be stopped.
But how do you stop an addiction, which you refuse to give up, even though many tell you leave it.

I really should stop this.