i want to step out of my hateful skin
and peel off my scales
like fabric
like feelings
like everything temporary.
like a snake molting its skin
i crave to be something new.
i want to shed the pure essence that is me
and leave my skin behind
so i'm just a tangle of strings
and broken clocks
and pulsating organs.
ill come to you in your dreams;
maybe give you a call around the holidays
but in the end, darling
you will be left somewhere
amongst
the dust
next to
beside
or within
my dead
excess
*skin

ive spun my web  
and caught little morsals
to pick my teeth with

and when ive
finished eating there skin
i use their bones
as instruments
to make something beautiful out of what they've left behind

i am innocent in less otherwise proven guilty
but no ones on the case

and with a smile of deceit on my face  the whole forest listens to
the melody of my eight legs cascading across my web
as
I pluck the strings
and make music
out of  dying screams
and the breaking of bones.

his bed was cold
and made of tombstone
and his sheets were starchy and made my skin crawl..

but
i still layed in the grave he dug for me
and
i shut off the lights in my head
And I sealed my eyelids shut with ice
so the rivers of emotion wouldn't seap through.
he had bought my skin for the night
he had bought my soul
so I layed there  
trying to dream up an excuse to escape the reality of his skin on mine
and
In my dream
I had built a house
a really pretty house
out of sticks and stones that can't break my bones
and in a place where the sun always shined
but now that I'm waking up
the woods rotting and there's maggots in the floor boards
from all the girls innocence that you murdered here
and all the walls and doors that I built up
you tore down
how am I supposed to hide
from a monster like you
In a place reduced to wood chips..?
And now since all the ***** hit the fan
and youre six feet under my skin
do you mind telling me
why you call your bed your tombstone
while you're very much alive and breathing
and i'm the one left dead?

possibilities grow at the ends of my fingertips
sprouting out and upwards
like a noose around your neck.
when i consider the possibilities
i often catch my self dreaming at the edge of a cliff.

(crawl inside my head and my thoughts will rip you to pieces.)

they call me young but they know that im bold
and i'd sleepwalk into a field of land mines
if it made me like the rest of you
mind numbed zombies
scared to die
or should i say scared to live..?

border line insane is what they call me
and here is my cage where they keep me at night
they swallow the key
kiss me goodbye
and forget that i was ever there.

go ahead and call me crazy
but even behind bars i am trapped in a world where people would rather take a pill
then face reality
where people would rather run from there fathers
there abusers
there misusers
even,
there own broken hearts.

so i dream
i dream of a better world
where everything's
wild
free and simple
where people laugh in the face of danger
and
live on the thrill of possibilities
and yes there's a chance i won't wake up tomorrow
there's a chance the world could fall to pieces
and this roof I sleep under could collapse on my head
but wouldn't it be wonderful if just for a day

the sun shined...
and the world smiled back?

you liked your alcohol just like you liked your women
a little watered down..
bitter to
the taste.

and nowadays you set your lungs ablaze
and shoot things into your veins that I don't even know the names of
but
i remember once
when i was the only thing that tortured you.

we were never minuscule enough to be soley about something as petty and chemical as..love

but somehow you ended up loving me
because
i didn't love you.