My love letters went down the drain yesterday
Flushed down the toilet I used to ***** in
Because now that im no longer lovesick
The thickness of steel enveloping my heart has softened

I cried when I wrote them
As I etched letters with my eyes
And scribbled in my thoughts
But the eraser of the truth brought me clarity
That no one could read what I was saying

I wish I could write another
I wish I could be blind enough to bother
To keep to my pride
And believe any of the compliments were real
I think I imagined them all
Just as I imagined I was short when I've really grown uncomfortable tall

So my words are gone
The paper has long melted in my mind
And I can't find the words to say whats wrong anymore
I can hardly even speak

The barbarism of a tongue held
Chained in silence
The words weld
The heart shut to everything but the mind
Trapped behind bars as no man shall ever cross the line
A line for fools
Engraved from their tears in the grey ground
Who were not scared enough to speak their mind
When they appeared giddy as a clown
But the adversary of man sits on every man's shoulder
Deceptively gentle, with long legs dangling over
Whispering seductive, only more relentless as man gets older
That mistakes can be served colder or hotter, and neither choice matters in the end
(Omitting both are gobbled up by the mind in late night regrets)
Bending the resolve of the so-called ethical
Lending a motive to the mouth's means to complete the puzzle of crime
To have an excuse for the lips rebellion against the divine

I grew up thinking drama was a way of life
Sustainable and expected to experience strife
I had no role models but nonetheless
I was so short I had to look up at the television

The tough boys had hearts of butter
But needed the heat of lovers to soften them
So I grew up with a big heart hidden behind a locked mouth

Somewhere along the line I forgot how to speak
I began looking for something, someone I could leak
My feelings I thought were forbidden
Although I was much taller, I looked up at the TV

I realized people loved me everyday at the toss of a dime
To make the unstable more consistent, I passed the time
Making my own episodes, divine exaggerations of the people who I thought condemned me to hell
Daydreaming through life, as no real love was there to give me obligations

But I woke up one day with nothing and everything
I was sitting in a chair, but without a presence it was empty
So I gave up on dreams and smashed that TV
That told me I would be happy with fictions of reality
And took my first shaking step under the force of gravity
Painful but needed to give me room to grieve
A life lost in daydreaming
But to take back my mind

And intertwine it with my friends
And family that are one of a kind

Every morning
There's almost nothing I can count on but you
As life changes and I do
But my love for caffeine has stayed the same
And the gentle drift of those flavored chemicals to my stomach seems to soothe me
I must admit I'm kind of an addict
But honestly, just one cup and i'm happy
So every morning I wake up
And I wake counting on you

My heart used to be a rabbit
Leaping to the simple things
Happy with just carrots
But then one day it leaped too far out of my chest
And I looked round and around me
Spinning on the merry go round of my surroundings
But when I stopped it was lying on the ground
With legs broken
And its pulse lost

I took it to the doctor
And the doctor looked and shocked
But it hasn't quite jumped again

And doesn't a rabbit jump for all of its days?
I think one of its circuits is frayed
But i can't find a way to solder it
So frayed it stays

need a new addiction
to replace this influence
so intuitive to numb it all
instead of waking up
sinking deeper into death
a fatal coma

the neon is captivating
but only at night can you see its glow
otherwise it's agitating
invisible buried under snow

i think to hurt myself
not bothering to consider
there might be wellness
just around the scary corner up ahead

i fear what is foreign to me
because it might hurt me in a better way I do not know
craving to stay the same chasing after ghosts

i hate saying goodbye to the melancholy
it disturbs me in a blessed way
and i fear i won't be picasso or kahli
if there is no sickness or injury to taint me

i would like to bleach my eyes
although they are a mature umber
the darkness in them has not come from slumber

rather from bittersweet tales not obliged
and far too mature for my young mind
penetrating my innocence
in favor of creating unnecessary indifference

to sacred matters of ***
belonging behind formal doors

as someone who is blunt
i wish people would say what they mean
instead of the flirty front of double entendres
but let the people say what they want
i have already been corrupted to be crude