t's the end of my world as I know it. Gonna go grab a box, and move to the curb. "The room is a little small, but the view is great."

Somewhere along the way, I think I dropped the 'emotions' and 'sensitive' chips to this machine. I know what I should be feeling, but every time a glimmer wells up in my gut, something devours it and I'm back to the same mellow, unaffected mess I was before I met you.

I could get used to anything.

"If we cut out the bad, well then we'd have nothing left."

In class, I'm having more fun when I'm forgetting myself then when I am trying to pick me apart.

Just relax.

The skin on my face feels like it’s pulling back on my skull and it’s only going to stop when my neck cracks. My lungs aren’t working and I’ve developed the delusion that I’ll grow gills so I can slip in to the water and learn to be weightless and complete. Out here? The gravity is so intense that I can feel it pull down on my heart like it’s expecting me to lurch forward and break my spine. And then I remember the anchor I have for a head, and how it’s tilting me backwards so I won’t tip forward. Permanently stable, I’m not getting anywhere because I don’t want to tip over and lose my balance. Eyes drawn shut, thick lips unevenly parted, every breath I take feels like sandpaper against my throat. It’s smoothing out my insides, until I cough out obscenities and we’re back to square one.

Fuck it.
Toss me overboard, I’m sick of land.

And don’t pretend you don’t know me.
Laced in cigarette curls and two-shot coronas,
When you’re drinking at three in the morning, baby, nothing says I love you like
A
Mouthful
Of
Vomit.
Favorite school girl, favorite grades, favorite sociality.
Read me like a textbook, perfectly planned,
Perfectly systematic,
Memorize.
I’ll tell you all about the pencils and the biology class day-dreaming if you tell me what the city lights mean, rockstar.
I’m buried between Napoleon and Lenin,
And where are you Mr. Louis the XVI?
King of Nothing, with his obsessive Queen of Stupidity.
Off, off, off!
They must die to mark the beginning of a revolution!
When I’m playing the role of executioner, I’m licking my blade and dragging it across the page,
Because nothing hurts more then my grin and your eyes,
And nothing hurts more then those god damn lies,
And I can’t love you more, rockstar.
I can’t love you more.

They don’t teach us that in school.

I know I’m not the best person. I speak French when I want to purr Spanish, and I laugh instead of cry. I freak out because I’ve never done this before, but I’m getting the hang of it. I wish time would slow down. Not that you’re going anywhere or I am, but I just want to memorize you with my eyes closed so I know where you are even in the dark.

My feet are glued to the rocks at the bottom, but I’m happy. The only way you can fly is in Greek myths with wings made out of wax. But those melt under the sun and what’s the point of being able to be free at night when you can’t see anything?