The desk in front of me has eyes. The chair I’m sitting in has eyes. The lights above my head have eyes. The walls around me have eyes. The bricks in the walls have eyes. The windows in the walls have eyes. The trees through the windows have eyes. The leaves on the trees have eyes. The road next to the trees has eyes. The lines on the road have eyes. The cars on the road have eyes. The wheels on the cars have eyes. The people all around me have eyes. The eyes have eyes. And those eyes also have eyes. My eyes have eyes. My skin has eyes. My fingers have eyes. My hair has eyes. My clothes have eyes. And every single one of them Is staring at me. And every single one of them Wants me dead. Everything wants me dead. Everything is devouring me.
Don’t pay any mind to the kid having an anxiety attack in the middle of class.
I may not be your First date. I may not be your First hug. I may not be your First hand to hold. I may not be your First kiss. I may not be your First set of eyes to stare into I may not be your First person to call up at midnight. I may not be your First shoulder to cry on. I may not even be your First choice. But I want to be your Last everything.
The world stops for a moment when I touch her, and suddenly everything is okay again.
Nobody cares About the kid in the twenty one pilots sweatshirt Cause they think he's like Stacy's mom But there ain't nothing going on. Not after the the verbal attacks, The nagasaki bombings of his social life. And honestly he kind of Wants to Off himself right now. But he can't say that aloud. No that's not allowed. It's not allowed To hold your own opinions, And say how you feel. But what you know to be true I guess is never really real. At least according To the people who care about you. And the slow-motion train wreck That he called a friendship Is now just a sinking ship. And it looks like he's going down. But his hoodie's warm So he'll be okay in the ice Cold Water.
Hands on hands Bodies on bodies Oxytocin blood rush. Heart rushing. Face gushing. Stomach fluttering. Lips stuttering before Hers meet mine. And then it all just... Feels okay again.
The radio static in my head Was like comfort food to me But I’ve lost my appetite recently Because I just Can’t stop Thinking.
And with how much I think about the future, I should be psychic by now. But all my foresights Involved her. And though “it” May never happen. God she makes me feel good And happy In this moment.
And in this moment Our hands are shaking Lips are quivering And birds are too busy beeing Ethereal beings. And if all goes well I hope the bees Don’t turn to wasps And take half of everything. That way I won’t be like him.