when i sit in my room consumed by defeat, i always only want to go two places, your house or the water. i don't know what for, there's nothing wrong. i'm doing well, in one piece, actually i have a lot going on with me. i want to tell you. i can't because i'll come off as arrogant - rubbing it in your face.
i'm lying, there's nothing, i'm sorry i'm troubled. i saw someone who smelled like you and i smiled half heartedly and then burst out crying. i was ripped open, and all was taken. love was mistaken. now i'm restricted to timeless sessions where my head pounds with what was found, when i know they were faking. i'm admittedly scared as i wait for my life to establish itself, hell, i'll have to help. i'm so mad at nothing and it frames me with daily assumptions that chances won't change, or people can't rearrange the furnishings of their lives, a balance and blend - not just the trend or routine - constant fixtures that you're lectured on to keep your distance from.
and i just want to sprout, grow out from here, not flee but reach further, but by roots stay where home is. do it for me (?) i have only just begun to become a breeze you'd want to catch, something that could get you stirring. no longer that howling in the night, filling you with fright.
and they cry when i let them, i really don't get them, but my face swells up and the tears spill - over.
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