musings

my heart breathes in staccato 

and stuttering hips

i'm better under pressure

and through the noose

our love (television time bomb)

i'll see you 'round the finale

it'll be my season four

and furthermore 

the air is cold, and you can ever so faintly smell the smoke of the cigarette he's sucking down. you want to bite your tongue, hold back what you know is wrong, but you can't. there's something seriously wrong with you.

you don't think you could push him around. he'd push back.

you tell him, though:

i'm gonna shove you over, cover you in this snow, and make you hurt - or at the very least make you uncomfortable, some way, somehow.

he watches gently, without actual judgement or fear, and it pisses you off.

you tell him it will hurt.

he is still not deterred, in all of his punk rock basement glory, he does not back down.

you are too soft and too cold for that sort of thing, but you are trying to use it against him.

i don't understand why you even talk to me. i berate you, i make you feel like shit. i'm mean, i hate everything else around me. i am pretentious and can't be myself

i'm a fake.

i am bitter and one sided

he drags hard on the last of his cigarette, hungry for the burn. you can tell.

he keeps something locked and loaded in his mind, always, no matter how short circuited everyone else likes to think he is. 

it pisses you off that he's too close and yet too far. 

i want to be in his head

my repertoire of fantasy extends endlessly for you, but i hate you...

and you don't hate him

his chest fumbles for rhythm and he wheezes out a restrained cough

were you something to pity

he probably thought you were more gentle than you are

i feel on the verge of tears

i want you to bring me to that brink and kill me

just enough to let me feel something more than a foreword

you gave me a curse and dumped me on a doorstep

it's too bad you opened the door, too.

tonight you will not hold your tongue, but you will still take him home, and care for what you cannot care for. you will be guilty, and he is innocent to what you really are.

he will learn that there is hate in love, just as you have learned that there is love in hate.

prefrontal

never temporal

two steps behind

im fumbling for the third

and ventricular thirst

i'm slumped over your heart but upturning to a new sound. you gonna catch this wave with me or get swept under? rolling back the prices because economic interest has been falling just like me: expect me gone within the hour. expect something a little easier to live with. an affordable living solution to all of your problems (not combinable with preexisting offers.)

i'm bleeding everywhere and i'm turning to something to fix it again

its a shame i can't feel very much anymore

the medicine used to hurt and reminded me i was alive

everything blurs

and i'm still unhappy

no way out from this

i'm rolled into forgotten articles 

i'm in the subtext

or maybe the afterword

i paint with no meaning

i breathe with no meaning

i cry with no meaning

my sheets are soaked with my sorrows

i'm sorry i would say

if i wasn't already dead

witness me

my corpse

my noose hangs too low from the ceiling

my feet touch the ground

i sit hoping it'd tighten around my neck

i lay down and still, nothing

the rope gathers on the floor

around me

my life is entwined with the threading

still, i beg stop giving me more