shemmie

Kiss the empty picture frame Rip the letters that don't mean a thing Wish a few things lasted Beg a few things ended And bid the cage farewell. Love yourself, I know you could If it'd give you the world You'd feel too full, it'd make you sick.

that night, so relentless, it's never gonna die. pain survives, and the happy ones lie. I didn't sleep, because why waste hours of a day that's point is clinging to a time as if it were life itself? No sleep, Because soon, There'll be more than enough. Four days Her words Are so wrong But so, it's the truth Forward now, we're moving on To a beautiful ballroom with thousands of eyes Watching the only one who knows how to cry Amongst the flood of people well-inclined To lie. This queen of all things miserable Stands before me in fabulous dress and says, "It happens to everyone." Then she turns ugly. More beastly than I, even.

David Silverstein, Shem typed. First of all, I'm alive. And second of all, I'm so sorry. "Fuck this." He muttered. "Anyone can type like a sweet, sincere man. I owe David a phone call." He lifted up the phone and dialed the number Ange had emailed to him. "David, I'm in Zaire. I'm working again, and I'm back on my feet. I'm coming to visit." "Who? What?" David was taken aback. There he sat in his spinny-chair in Nairobi Hospital, getting a seemingly random phone call from someone who was acting like they knew him. David's accent was an odd hybrid between New York and Kenyan. Very odd. "It's Shem, David. It's Shem Musoke." "Did he... did