small little hurricane

I just hate this. Who says we shouldn't care, that whoever cares the least holds the power. Who says power even means a single damn thing, to anything. All I know is that it is impossible not to feel, not to care.

And you're only here for the taste of gravity. You leave me waiting. And if I showed you one pure thing, you would be fed up, you will be gone. So I just keep thinking, a hurricane beneath this colour of blue, adjusting my slouch in bed, killing the sheets.