go.

you're nothing but the opening band for the rest of my life.

life(style) ?

i'm bleeding
all over
someone pierced my heart
and left me for dead
but
we can laugh at that person
because i'm not dead
but
my religion has gotten the best of me
and i'm starting to believe.
i need to blame someone
for everything that's wrong
"terrible, terrible."
right now,
i'm hiding in bushes
waiting for mother nature to save me
savemesavemesavemesavemeSAVEME!
saving is worth the exclamation mark
and grammar and computers
keep mocking me.
and i'm covered head to toe
in suicide.
/RAPE ME /RAPE ME /RAPE ME/ MY FRIEND.
SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM
STOP.

it's natural and refreshing

END/FIN
[or whatever you speak]
boy meets girl, girl meets boy
THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY
why is everything ending prematurely?
i can feel the divide,
even
though
you
can't.
sitting with straight backs against red-brick walls talking about things that have no meaning except to make us look like we're all together.
HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED.
play that tiny violin and ask me for my pity.
actually, scratch that.
Beg.
Beg for my pity.
don't give me that face, you know that we spent minutes perfecting that face together.
and i use it better anyway.
JUMP to us looking sick afterwards.
JUMP to you slapping me in the face
[in a scuffle they exchange rapiers]
cut me open with a poisoned sword and watch me tell you that i'm dead.
JUMP to now.
START/COMMENCE

i'm not faking this

but i'm pretty sure you are.
since when did everyone just push there way into things that require an invitation ? and when do people take guitars ?
photography for one please.
everyone i know is sleeping their way into euphoria.
[not in the dirty way]

i swear a lot nowadays.

me too.
but under my breath.

stop. repeat.

what happens when the only word i want to say to you is good-bye ?
i don't know what to do anymore.
leaving would make me look like a coward, and staying would make me look needy.
I'M NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS.
or at least i pretend not to be.

today i washed my hands and let them drip dry.
it took longer, and it was boring,
but heck, watching something leave made me feel better.

playing with fire

we are a generation of children who have to grow up too fast.
there are a superheroes at the symphony, but we are too old to go.
BUT I WANT TO.
there's no turning back the clocks that tickticktick
time's running out.
-think about it-
if everyone were to disappear i would wish you back because when you're not around i remember that there's darkness. pitch black. and silent.


you're the music to my lyrics.

nioncol

wordswordswordswordswordswords
i'm just a broken record,
and you are the person sitting there keeping me going.

what happens when someone you know asks someone else you know somewhere they won't take you ?

because if no-one tells me i'm probably going to die of a broken [hushhh]
life is not cool.
one second she's telling me to go after it,
and the next moment she's telling me that i shouldn't have gone because it was a waste of her time.
if only she could see the irony that's dripping from her lips.

i know i have issues.
i just want someone to reassure me.

life is just one psychotic roller coaster ride that makes every person that pays to get on it barf.

you will be the cause of my death.

i've said fuck more times than i ever did before i met you.

i don't even remember your name anymore.

"when did you stop trusting me?"


"when did i ever say you had my trust?"

you know what? i'm fed up with you.

fuck this.
fuck trying to make you happy.
fuck psychology.
fuck laughing.
fuck computers.
fuck looking for your name.
fuck computers.
fuck nails.
fuck everything that's wrong with my life right now.
fuck the word "spoilt."
fuck desks.
fuck overly warm bedsheets.
fuck life.
you know what?
fuck you.
and everything you stand for.
i hate you.
i.
hate.
you.
so, so much.

for my own personal satisfaction i will bring it to you. to watch your face fall in failure.

no more heros

chocolate desks and squeeky whiteboards

[it's all your fault]
every fight.
it's all your fault.
you push me, knowing that it will eventually push me off the edge into that dark and scary place in my mind called oblivion where everything i don't want to happen, happens.


subsequent beliefs, otherwise excellent.
if you were an essay, you'd score a very high on my chart.

free-falling isn't so bad once you hit the bottom.