Have you ever heard the ramblings of a crazy man?  They're often like the mumblings of a sleep-talker. Unfiltered, unearthed from the blackened crevices of the burned truth.
     They're rooted in the torn up letters that you thought you threw out. In the prison of socially acceptable things to think
That send you into a whirlwind of what ifs.
     They're in the things everyone knows are true but are too paralyzed by fear to admit.
     In the vapid humor that covers up the paranoia. In the fear still lingering after the emergence of the Monster Town under your bed.
             But what does one do with these ungodly demons?

Perhaps the answer lies in the disregarded chemically corrected ramblings of a "crazy" man.
But who will be the one to open their ears
and tape up their letters
and open their cells
and embrace their fear for the greater good of the fading humanity?

How many times are you going to lie to me?
How many times am I going to believe you?
Every time.
Every time because I need your words to be true

I know I'm setting myself up for disappointment whenever I talk to you.
And yet I find myself at your table every **** day.
Your voice draws me in and keeps me within your grasp.

You are my favorite song.
You are my favorite lie.
You are my favorite "how many times..."

I feel the cool rim at the end of the barrel
It's pressed up against my temple.
One action and it could all be over
I knew something of this nature was inevitable.

My life should be flashing, but only one thought comes to mind
I really wish you hadn't believed me when I said I was fine
It's cruel that you're the last thing that goes through my head
     (Well, second to last, really)
My world is running out of time

I click off the safety - nothing safe about this anyway- isn't that what you always said?
I inhale - I can smell the metal and your fading cologne
I count to three.
One - I'm alone
Two - You promise you'd stay
Three - You left
You forget about colors when your whole world is grey.