reflection after reading Diary by Chuck Palahniuk

link your hand to mine. the physical and the emotional.a brick wall scattered with my brains.is this all the satisfaction you get?the roses on the wallpaper smell fresh.they're so misleading.stop. stop.there goes the fucking phone again.not for me. never for me.chipped glass rubies for me.chipped glass rubies for all.dont mind me when statues come to life, and rape us of innocence in the tempting night.cold and naked. starved of reason. a broken grotto. heal my wounds. this is the seasonof love and lust to burn and die. to make their assults on the sky. this is the season.filled with shit and sunken dreams, swollen eyes find it easy to paint pictures of your dirty misery. this is where it dies. dried blood and paint smeared in a line across my finger.fuck the metaphysical. this is not my wall. these are not my dreams.