wow, this music is loud..
or is it quiet? i feel it in my fingertips,
are my senses just intense?
wow, this **** is loud..
or is it mids? is my ****** tolerance
low? am i high? yeah, ok.
i may not be much of a
poet, but i'm a great **** lover,
or am i? let me show you.
then you can tell me how it feels,
to be loved by somebody.

I remember you. I can't forget.
You clean sailboats for a living,
and you love it.
You're already who you're meant to be.
And I'm just wandering from
state of being
to state of being
trying to figure out
how to be the one for you.
Your favorite color is blue.
You told me to remember that, I do.
You were born in June,
the 13th.
We didn't know each other yet when you turned
17.
I know you probably look at me as being
so reckless,
for a 15 year old it's probably
not okay.
We knew each other by my birthday,
late September.
I guess we weren't on good terms then,
and I wished to see you when I blew out the candles.
It was kind of dumb, my wish didn't come true
anyway.
Now what are we?
We're hundreds of different types
of oppressed emotions,
battling each other all at once.
And to put it quite simply,
I love you
wholeheartedly.
Until there's nothing left,
I will love you.
Regardless of whether you love me back,
even if you push me away,
even if you love somebody else,
I know that I won't be able to stop.
I'm sorry for not being able to
give up on you.

i told you baby i told you
that i didn't know if i could stop
i told you i might be addicted
sorry i'm so reckless,
i can't stop i can't.
you make my days
brighter
like removing a stain
from my life
i can do it to my clothes too!
when you left,
bloodstains just became a part
of my shirts.
(and you took them away.)
how am i supposed to let my favorite
drug,
my favorite bad habit leave me?
my favorite way to **** myself
has always been being with you.
you make the pain
matter,
you couldn't make anything matter
until i decided to let you.
i wish i could scrape
the resin from my lungs.
get us high one more time,
god, would there even be anything left?
but you're perfect
you keep me the best kind of
****** up.
please,
don't make me quit you.

have i forgotten what it feels like to be needed?
i'd rather gouge my eyes out  than look in the mirror,
and it's not the reflection that disgusts me.
it's this small person inside of me,
hiding.
too much of a coward to actually be passionate,
too big of a ***** to actually fight for what i want,
to actually stand up for myself.
i want to **** the person inside,
not myself.
i love myself. it's the doubt that lives inside me
who needs to die.
he whispers in my ears
that i need to cave in again,
that i need to fall apart.
if i need him gone, i may need
to hurt myself too.

you can punch your reflection all you want,
the only result will be ****** knuckles and broken glass.
stop pushing it away, you're never gonna be okay.
he didn't want you, maybe it's because you don't even want yourself
self destructing in
5, 4, 3, 2...

i've been gone awhile maybe you thought i died
i wish i did, so i wouldn't feel so empty inside
'cause i wake up lately without the motivation to write
i've lost everything except my ******* life
so what do you do when all you can think
is of making more drops of blood in the sink
when nobody's around, you really could drown
in it, and i'm not okay anymore.
i've lost my way, i'm for sure
that i'll never feel okay again
cause my baby doesn't even wanna be friends
i just wanna pass this, wanna pass the end
and i swear to god i've already died, i'm in hell
but no everyone, i'm fine. i'm doing swell.