There are certain parts of misery
That never made sense to me.
I never caught on to the self harm thing,
I figured I already felt bad enough.
I never drank it away,
Because a hangover was just a reminder
That putting a coat on
Doesn't stop the snow.
DABDA doesn't make sense either.
How can you be angry
About something you haven't accepted yet?

I do now understand masochism.
I certainly don't practice it,
But I get it.

The thing with masochism
Is that you really have to love it.
You really have to let go.
My nerves are just nerves.
My skin is just skin.
My eyes just make drawings out of ****.
******* purple from the fourth wall
Letting the people eat a different truth.

My brain on a steady loop
Of Whose Line Is It Anyway reruns
Just waiting to invent the next thing
We all take for scripture.

I don't feel good, it's a bore
I don't feel like I did before
I am upset because of you
We're apart and I miss you.

Do you really love someone?
Everyone says you are gone.
But I still believe you love me
Oh, my heart is burning into me!

Please stop playing with me!
I'm here, and I wish you'll be.
You are so kind and so good
But today I'm in a bad mood!

They always say that
Tomorrow might be better
But I'm still waiting

You were my star amongst the stars, my own solar system inside my eyes.
Hand you the knife and I'll let you cut out my insides,
create the universe from my cells so I can be so absorbed in you
I am no longer myself.
Let me be what you want.
I know that I am faded
but if you let me
I will chain myself to the insides of your ribcage
protect your heart, because we both know all it controls is the rate
at which your blood flows,
and all it has ever known
is to push everything it has ever met away,
so it is a constant but with nothing of its own
I guess that's the biggest break.
Show me importance the same way I used to see it
I wanna know every single one of your secrets,
watch your eyes flicker on the train
as you lose yourself to back gardens and brick built barriers,
letting yourself inside the subtleties of a strangers life.
Leave your bad days on my pillow love
and I will never make the effort to wake up.
I will swallow your pictures whole
with no attempt to understand your charity shop bags
full of yesterday's thrown out dreams.
Punch me with your closed fist
and I will pretend it is your beating heart
they are the same shape, someone told me once,
I can think of nothing better than the embrace of your vitals and veins,
staple them to my chest so I can store the pain inside myself for future reference.
I can still remember the way your voice tasted those nights,
I counted each one of your heartbeats against my chest every evening we slept
to check you were still breathing,
that's how bad I wanted you to stay,
my hands lying inside your make believe
that you were feeding me,
I never knew what it was what I wanted from you,
and I never understood the languages you spoke in,
But I used to wish on those nights
that I was deep and dark and mysterious like the oceans
we both know you'd love to swim in
and I'd never have the courage to join you in.
Maybe if the things you had told me hadn't have been
as vast as that same ocean,
I wouldn't be trying to pick between pieces of broken glass,
trying to slice out the things which beat around inside my pulse
whenever I think about you.