Tis a curse to be gifted
by the muses.
Why is it that artists go mad,
and poets are broken,
writers get drunk,
and musicians find themselves
smoking in the back alleys?

i am a paradox
i am a contradiction
i am an oxymoron
i am a hypocrite

i am a walking talking
"yes, no, maybe"

black one day
white the other
lingering between the two
because I have no morals
and I speak of fake values

never choosen a side
never made a concrete decision
my grand words oppose
my petty actions
and yet, still overshadow them
i sugarcoat them
with lame excuses for excuses

my faults are the night sky
the twinkling stars are but airplanes
polluting the purity
mistaken for a force of beautiful nature
when it is indeed
destructing
the good
destructing
the holy
with its very existence

i leap
from one pond
to the other
politically correct
depending on the situation

i am the northman
claiming to belong to the south

i am the liar
i am the lie

neither here nor there
never here
never there
*never anywhere

of course* i want to die
i think of it every
second every minute every hour.

and now you've all begun to
ask questions,
whisper behind my back, she
looks dead;
has the lord of the underworld staked
his claim over
me *already?

i want to lie on my bed with you
listening to old records
with songs about love & throwing away your life
while your legs entangle mine
let’s numb our minds
and think about no further than today
i want to taste the magic on your lips
and feel the strength in your arms
let's just ****
& forget that we’re ****** up
big city kids from broken families
looking for love in all the wrong places
let’s just get wasted
& reclaim our place in the wastelands
exhale our pain
a purple haze
feed me the smoke
from your mouth
blow it into me
& i’ll blow you
i’ll pretend your electric eyes
are the solution to all my problems
and you can pretend
as if my mouth wrapped around you
is all you need in life
forget about the guts and the gore
forget about the half written suicide note
stuck to the backside of your bedside table
which you gave up writing because you realized
once you're gone, no one's going to give a ****
never have, never will
& the fact that last night, you cried yourself to sleep
because you knew your mother was two doors down, doing the exact same thing
we'll forget about the fact that we've got no path or direction
that we're going nowhere, and we're going nowhere fast
& that we're a mix of self-loathing and self-pity
we're sad kids
belonging to an even sadder generation
let's lose control
it's better than losing our minds
i'll pull your hair and cry out in pleasure
it's better than pulling my own and crying out in pain
i'd rather kiss your scars
than deal with my own
i'd rather let you bury your head in my chest
than admit that i'm itching to bury myself six feet under
i'd rather scream your name and beg you for more
than scream at the demons in my head & beg them to leave me alone
the drugs help
but you numb me better
pills are nice
but i'd rather have you in my mouth
i'm looking at the way you see right through me
and it makes me feel at home to be around someone as lost as i am
i see your broken nails and peeled skin
and i know we're cut from the same cloth
because that look in your sad eyes
is one my own know all too well
so let’s just listen to old records
with songs about regret & wasted time
& pretend as if we can’t relate to them
*not one little bit

Is to die to yourself
Be born of a soul
Live in these words
And never be quite whole

Just an opportunity
To fill an expanse
Never pass it up
Take every chance

no matter how shallow
no matter how few
I still broke my promises
and I lied to you

I know a "bad day"
is a horrible excuse
but a few cuts
it's better than a noose

it was just one more day
until 6 months
but I guess this time
I wasn't strong enough

it was only a matter of time
and I think you knew
I could feel myself growing distant
then I finally blew my fuse

it was only supposed to be one I swear
one single line and then I'd be done
but then I had to make it equal
and then my demons won

I'm tired,
So tired,
Of myself,
Of life.

I'm complicated,
Too complicated,
Help yourself,
Stay away from me,
It hurts not only you,
But also me.

I'm clingy,
Never obsessed,
Though that might be your perception of me.

I expect too much,
Seemingly naive,
But I know how it all ends,
I know what always comes,
I know I'll bleed from my eyes,
But I still dive into salt.

Friendships only ever hurt me,
Relationships come back to haunt me,
For I know my insignificance,
In an immense amount of lives,
Yet I blindly dream,
That I might hold importance.

I know how it all ends,
Yet I dream,
And I never stop,
Maybe I'm just naive.

I have OCD,
My mum didn't believe me,
Perfect symmetry is my ideal,
No one understands it.

No one understands me,
I think so badly of myself,
I take some jokes secretly seriously,
I care too much about your thoughts of me.

I'm used for my talents,
Then disregarded.

With music,
I'm not to mess with,
My hands,
They apparently hold magic.

People tell me to be positive,
When I think that way,
What happens,
Is the opposite.

My heart holds supposedly false hope,
Though I hope with all my heart,
And so exude happiness unconsciously
I hurt for no reason,
Can't even pour it all out in my art.

I'm tired,
So tired,
I'm complicated,
Too* ******* complicated,
So stay away from me,
*If you want to ever be free.