It seems..

..as if there will always be a need for more. An empty void that needs filling. It seems like in the eye of the storm our fears get the best of us and some just vanish. Satisfaction? I don't think it exist. Quality over quantity. In some basket cases' quantity over quality. Above all, women are really vulnerable in the arms of hope. We(the people) are led astray and the domino effects are endless. I say no, but you want a yes. Shall I replace my nose? (haha) Everything is surrounded by SKIN. Misery hovers over her head but no one wants to keep her company. The love, oh the love is always available but never really visible because there is no such thing as good. Cynicism is worn around her belly as a belt and the Jam. Oh the Jam keeps it all together like interlocked fingers. You are a mystery. I feel like I don't know you. Whose to toss the Frisbee back and fourth with me? Gravity hurts....so stop pulling me down.