I want to paint over you
So you're clouds can be more like you
I want to sleep with you
So you're dreams can look like you
   So
       Everything
                           Can
                                   Look
                                             As
                                                 Beautiful
                                                                As
                                                                    U

You are the cactus that stings my lips when I try for a kiss.
You are the innocence I can't no longer find in my sheets.
You are the heart shape scar on my knee.
You are the wild boy who I set free.
You are part of me and I am part of you.
And this why you feel red and I feel blue.

We are all broken little pieces trying to mold into one.
Some of us are golden, rare, and beautiful ones.
And some of us rust away with time.

Hey mom, this my last letter home.
Sorry I never answer the phone.
I'm sick and contagious if talk you might get it.
I'm plotting to end it.
Hey dad, I keep dropping the juice on the table do you hate me for it.
I hit my head a couple times, but I can't get the right channel.
Hey brothers and sisters, do you forgive me because I'm not strong enough to beat it.
Hey friends, the depressions back and it harder than ever. Please hold my hand if ends up cold.
Hey lovers, beautiful yet tragic endings in my world.

Let me save you.

Let me love you.

Let me hold you until you love me.

He compliments me.
I'm unamused and so is he.
He pulls my hair and untangles it, but I want the mess.
He holds me close I'm not alone I should feel blessed.
He lets go I'm free.
I know he knows I know he feels, but its cold in here
"Its like you wanna be lost," he says.
"I do," I say as my heart drifts away.

I'm the oil in your purified water.
A waste in your pretty beach of broken seashells.
You're so so pretty with the natural organic lipstick of bulshit you wear.
What happened to us?
I want you away more than I want you close.
I was the green bubblegum under your shoes.
The forgotten toy you said you loved, but always lost.
I guess I'm just sick of it, but it always seems to be my fault.

I've been sleeping on dead roses.
Thinking about overdosing.
Am I truly sick of this world or is it just thinking about the dead old you?
I'm trying to love him the way I should've loved you.