Destruction. Destroying my creation. Setting it alight and watching it burn. Apathy. Morbid humor. It’s funny.
Solitude. Seclusion. Social isolation. Lock myself away. Another winter. I’m dying
Again.
My own muderer
I am.
Let myself burn to a crisp to rise again from the ashes
And do it all again.
It never ends.
It’s another December.
Currently Untitled 