The thing is, i’m a cancer of the stars. I’m cancer. it was born in my blood in both ways, no star-crossed lovers for me. All those lucky boys, all those lucky girls. Keep your eyes above the line that separates reality from the dark misgivings that your parents kept secret from you. When your alarm goes off in the morning, meet it with a groan, the same one you save when blood rushes below your head on hot nights. As an awkward acquaintance tells you a bad story, meet it with the same short laugh you use when the only bus for hours drives straight past your nose at night. When a horrible tragedy finds you, meet the acid tears with the same vices that you dream about in the witching hours of the morning. Dye over that blonde innocent and find a temporary cure if you’re a cancer, because the doctors who run the living only prescribe so much morphine.