i think about murder like frying an egg, self defense
waiting for the influx of anger, and then subsequent damage
i feel your life leave, and i drop to my knees
i'm hot and disoriented but you're cold and it was a choice you made
but now you're laid down, and i'm insane - yes.
that's what i'll plea, call the press tell them about the eggs
it wasn't my choice, just all the noise, was in my head
and it was making my mind, no, my brain, relay messages all ignorant and angry
and you fancied me a mad hatter, how i stopped time and then the disregard for the future didn't seem so shocking. and i'm flagrant with my madness, cause despair is what repairs it
so where is there a choice in that situation?
i'm faced with being crazed or no sensations
and you will not catch me in your net, sitting or lying or laying or what have you,
wasting away with my dreams on a back-burner called denial
and you go senile because the reality will maim you
and yes these dreams are just my wantings
but i'm a fiend so there ain't a chance at me stopping
but functioning has been all you know, and you know it oh so well
you wouldn't want to bump heads with floating, and not knowing what's coming up next
but you did know me best, so well in fact, you knew that it would end
and it would end a mess, in both sense. because we're still licking our wounds,
but the ones we had together were anew. i am poison to you, that's my view.
but keep steady for a couple months, i'll be ready to jump for a fifth time,
we'll still call it "this time", a wish kind of purpose between us
and they all think i found jesus.
and life is truly about comparison, that's how i sum it up
so duly note the facts within, love is the hump
you have to climb it but i'll roll down it and run all around it
i'll grab a telescope and scope it out, have mercy with my doubt
yes self pity is a pity but i'm riddled with its forbidden feelings
it debuts every time it has an appearance, just as boldly fashioned as the first time
i'll conclude its the worst time, but its always a tie
and i catch a glimpse that changes my insides forever, i insist
til a couples months pass and that facade changes fast
can anything last? for real the way you want it, unforced and nothing lost from the self
not just months of a hell you can bare, but a tell tale heaven thats founded and recorded and there is nothing left you long for, and you're not strong for something - you just are
and nothing is far, everything is as close as you keep it, and no ones leaving
the way you're used to seeing
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Happiness Is Abundant, And In Short Supply. (It Doesn't Add Up).
we fight and i try and convince you that's what couples do. all your friends that i swear are bad news.
and it's sad when it's myself i lose, but you help me through.
so i find my soul and i'm reminded of what makes me tick,
all while these hinges feel on the brink of breaking. so the door can open and
there's no mistaking i'll have the whole view. uninterrupted. i'm feeling so lucky - and you've never seen me cry so you swear i don't.
and between the lies we're all something else. but mine is either all used up or stored stuffed within.
and i'm not sure which it is.
and when i'm on the toilet on my laptop, i realize that all this technology does have a purpose. social media makes me anxious and i'd rather read hard copies.
hard copies.
remember floppies? funny though how none of it shocks me. it's just a new way to steal to me.
but hard copies has meaning, did you pause there? was it because i made you? would you like this handwritten in a cute mead memo pad? does it make you sad?
you just see pictures and the comments aren't off the cuff, they were thought up, edited, and tested on others.
quite honestly i just miss my mother. when i have a spare second she always comes to mind and i know you can't rewind, but you can make up, so i just need to take up, space with time that fills with her. i'm seven years old again and when she's not around i know i'm looking for a filler, someone to act as.
somewhere though the lines blurred and i just started acting like everyone was her. has it made me feel better? i'm unsure, but i think it's pretty clever. a cat with nine lives, my mind jives, the lines hide whatever is really there. was really there.
really there is gone. and i'm not even scared anymore. cause i've faired it all.
and it's sad when it's myself i lose, but you help me through.
so i find my soul and i'm reminded of what makes me tick,
all while these hinges feel on the brink of breaking. so the door can open and
there's no mistaking i'll have the whole view. uninterrupted. i'm feeling so lucky - and you've never seen me cry so you swear i don't.
and between the lies we're all something else. but mine is either all used up or stored stuffed within.
and i'm not sure which it is.
and when i'm on the toilet on my laptop, i realize that all this technology does have a purpose. social media makes me anxious and i'd rather read hard copies.
hard copies.
remember floppies? funny though how none of it shocks me. it's just a new way to steal to me.
but hard copies has meaning, did you pause there? was it because i made you? would you like this handwritten in a cute mead memo pad? does it make you sad?
you just see pictures and the comments aren't off the cuff, they were thought up, edited, and tested on others.
quite honestly i just miss my mother. when i have a spare second she always comes to mind and i know you can't rewind, but you can make up, so i just need to take up, space with time that fills with her. i'm seven years old again and when she's not around i know i'm looking for a filler, someone to act as.
somewhere though the lines blurred and i just started acting like everyone was her. has it made me feel better? i'm unsure, but i think it's pretty clever. a cat with nine lives, my mind jives, the lines hide whatever is really there. was really there.
really there is gone. and i'm not even scared anymore. cause i've faired it all.
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