Your love is the barrel of a gun, so tell me, am I on the right end?she was a beautiful girl with big blue eyes, hiding her secrets of hurt and lies. She wore sweaters every single day hoping the scars would just fade away.
Praying is like remembering everything I should have been. It seems like I'm expecting all of this. Not so much these small glories, but more this great demise. And its not like I don't know whats coming. I've been fucking schooled. Steeped in all of this.
I know how shallow the water is. Why are we still diving then? Can't blame a fool for trying? You sure fucking can. Hold your head up high. Its the last Living sign of any sort of confidence. You don't have to be rich, you don't have to be brilliant to pretend to know what you're doing either. Hands up if you can't feel the bottom yet!
Snowflakes that land on the same nose, the same fingertip, the same airwave. Whats the last thing you wanna hear before you land? Think of humans like snowflakes and how many disappear unacknowledged, unnoticed. How annoying they both can be in big groups. Sure, there's ways to end it like shovels and snowplows. Earplugs and pharmacies. I prefer thinking of it as you are born with love and die with hate. Even the snowflakes on your flesh melt. They cant be saved. Its suicide if you didnt know any better. Im not too old to know better if I still dont know anything. I'd say I've had every drop of care and love im capable sucked dry from me but if that was true I'd have a tag around my toe. What keeps me going isn't the mirror I cant look in. It isn't the clothing I can wear (or take off) its about hope and hanging on. That someone out there will understand me. Deep down I think I understand myself - I cant be understood. Its about accepting myself. Im not normal. How can I love myself if I can't even stand me. I dont like being jealous and insecure. I dont like questioning what he's doing when my back is turned. I'm not normal at all. I dont need an MRI result to tell me that. I dont need a doctors mumbled, hushed words to his associate without looking up from their clipboards. I dont need fresh ink on an unending list of problems. I don't need capital letters on a pill bottle. I dont need to hear how theres no space left in the cupboard because pill bottles line the shelves. I dont need a pharmacist that knows me by name. I dont need fucking labcoats and therapists that could live off my money alone deep down knowing I can't be helped. No prescription in the world is going to help. I'm fucked. And everyone wants someone they can save and when they get the chance the only thing they save is the reciept. Back on the market with signs of wear and tear. Worn down. Press my hand to my forehead like it'll help these thoughts stop running on end and actually end. If you ever doubt I'm alone count the rings under my eyes. Slept till 6 because I'm not alone when my eyes are closed. Time is just when the sun is up or down. Time is running out. Every day im closer to hugging dirt. Every day is another day I should have been with him. Every day is another day I should have known him. 6 and 3 and 12 are the same thing when you wake up alone with your back to where heshould be. What does it matter? Asleep you don't have to think about how you'd do anything to have the weight on the bed his body used to give. The glass isn't half full or half empty its broken. And its just one glass so its alone.
Cutting you out of my life involves a knife, rusty from dried tears that leaves me bleeding instead of you.
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