i am maybe the first person to be doing the wrong things for the right reason. love is above all an accomplishment, today more than ever. we are a severely broken marriage when we're only steady dating. i wander around your house, the one you've invited me into, and without caution i might add. i don't think you had a hesitation about me, a second thought. nobody does, not about me. i'm hardy, i'm american in all the right ways. i trust everyone who's breathing, i'd give to anybody with their hand out, and my heart is growling now from all the ambitious years i spent saving myself from utter disappointment by sticking my head in the sand.
i woke up and i realized i don't have a home. and it's painful, indeed. it takes me a couple years to become aware of my situation as a tramp in a world where trust is fading fast. have i garnered much to brag about? i cant count over 30,000 smiles from random strangers crossing my path in a fleeting moment, a reputation as a soldier who runs to the front-lines, a do-gooder who wants nothing to show for it, a philanderer who simply can't afford to put a ring on it, and wouldn't do that do anyone, above all you.
so paint your nails black and cry yourself to sleep tonight. i'm waiting for the drug dealer to arrive, and i'm practically pulling my hair out. he might be my favorite person to see. and he's a pretend friend, another soul on the sidelines of my life. watches as i use all my might to disassemble my life, i save all the pieces and put them back in their package and mail them back to their rightful owner. i remember what time you called it compartmentalize.
and i'm in heaven now, i'm warm, and maybe now i wish you'd call. but i ring you, and leave a message - cause that's what best friends do.