|
i've been driving off cliffs in my dreams and staying to the lanes by day. i'm turning down one-ways and running stoplights, but i'm okay. i'm driving drunkenly, self-medicated. i'm masking pain behind ounces till all memories are obliterated, but i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine.
guess i'll just fall asleep to the sound of my own breathing again.
to think myself to sleep's not where i'd like to be, but it's where i am.
it's the repetitiveness.
i'm a smoke stack. i'm a pot boiling over, and i'm going to explode. i'm a breaking back, i'm falling apart wishing i was either far or close (or neither).
guess i'll just fall asleep to the sound of my own breathing again.
to think myself to sleep's not where i'd like to be, but it's where i am.
i'm a smoke stack. i'm a steel mill shutting down. i'm a river, poisoned by everything i swallow. i'm too close to fall, too high to see the road end, i'm a product of full bucket promises left empty in the end.
|
|
there's no substance to the blessings i've never accepted, i just put the names in my veins and sung it to those who wouldn't listen. every wrong word's a sentence, a right one nonexistent, and i can't dig myself out of a hole i wasn't left in to begin with.
there's a perfect amount of blood on the pages i've written, all these perfectly painted portraits of all my blood-red angst-stained visions. nauseous and sweat-drenched, i toss and turn but lay still, ever awake.
there are too many thoughts in my head, i could fill the pages for days.
but i won't.
am i fully self-aware or am i just scaring myself? do i know where i am, or am i nowhere at all? questioning if i'm played as who i act or if i'm just a song i never sang, but i still can't figure out just how to take back.
|
|
i'm just fine standing where i am. my knees are clean and my hands are full and functional. i don't need beliefs, i believe in who i am and i guess that makes me nothing. i close my mouth when it comes time to speak, and close my eyes when it comes time to look. i spend my days spitting metaphors about metaphors that have already been mistook.
i think i'm better off being better off without the burden of modern day prayer.
i spend my time between paper cuts and paperbacks, wondering if it's me who's the hard one to love. i don't know for sure, but i'm fairly certain there's a much better read than the one that i hold in my hands.
i think i'm better off being better off without the burden of modern day prayer.
don't pray for me.
|
|
there's a system that comes with everything we're born with: how to make money, how to fake love and pretend just like we earned it. we can sit in these school walls and talk about their writings and we can restate information almost as if we learned something.
there's a ringing in my ears, but i can't see one on my finger. how could i grow up in a world where every false sensation lingers? it's the toll that my mind takes with the more that i know, but the point of life is to express myself so when they tell me to shut up, i don't.
i have to rationalize everything and think through my realities and i over think so much, i'm starting to think there's something wrong with me. maybe it's the lack of sleep, or just the absence of dreaming. i'm biting my pillow, waiting for it all to come to me.
i'll sit and stare blank, like my page, out of these windows as you preach all your beliefs and expect me to become hollow. my mind keeps changing with the time that i'm in, but this clock is smashed, it's broken, turning all of these songs second hand.
i have to rationalize everything and think through my realities and i over think so much, i'm starting to think there's something wrong with me. maybe it's the lack of sleep, or just the absence of dreaming. i'm biting my pillow, waiting for it all to come to me.
i'm staring at the ceiling every single day as i wonder my childhood away, i dance into dreams when i'm given a number and they take my name. these pills have too many side-effects, without doing what's on their bottles' necks. my stomach's still in knots, no matter how hard i try to untie it still sticks.
so all these bills burn down to nothingness, i wouldn't know the other side of it. it's time to learn to hate your friends and stand around and cope with it.
|
