there's nothing wrong with a little inspiration
put the blindfold on
and you're off to your new destination
you close your eyes and feel the vibrations
when you're on your knees and need a little motivation
baby let me be it

there's nothing wrong with a little medication
they send you home with a bottle
and you try to escape the depression
when you're alone in bed and want the temptation -
baby let me be it

there's nothing wrong with a little obsession
turn the lights out and let me give you some affection
attention, attention,
all you need is some protection -
baby let me be it

you are eighteen and you're in love
with a boy who hates his birthday.
you don't know it yet,
but the world gets so much bigger than the back of his car.
you think he needs you to be happy and so does he
but both of you are wrong.
it'll take you almost a year to stop crying.
and then you don't talk for another three
and when you finally do,
he thinks he still knows you,
but your heart is heavier than it was then.
and you **** him because you're lonely
but it isn't the same.
neither of you can fake love.
at least he still makes you laugh.
you'll pretend it's enough
because at least he's a body.
at least you're not by yourself.
at least you're alive
and you're good at *******.
because bodies are distractions
from the things we hide inside them.
you have him inside you
and he wants to gut you of your ugly, your sad.
he scrambles for an excuse not to stay the night
and you laugh.
you know what this is and how it goes
and you both love someone else.
you swear you won't **** him again
but you do anyway because you're still lonely
and you like the way his hands fit around your neck.
you **** him because it's good for your art
and you get bored of your own hands on your body
and you're fine with letting him feel useful.
and you think about when you were sixteen
and how *** was supposed to be special
and it makes you cry
because you're not who you wanted to be.
it makes you cry, because the world got so much bigger
after you left the backseat of his car.
the world is so big and you don't know
how it ended up on your shoulders.
you would have died for him.
you have been ready to die for every person you have ever loved.
you have dreams where he dies
and you can't save him.
you have dreams where people die
and you can't save them
and you're the one who tied your hands.
your mangled heart and all its bleeding.
nobody asked you to die.
what good is all the love in your chest
if you don't leave any for yourself?

- m.f.

i love hating myself more than you love loving me
because love isn't easy and
neither are you
you are -
the sounds that stick to my  throat
songs that spill from my veins
and busy bruises that crawl up my body
and you are the things we leave behind accidentally,
the things we find coincidentally
turmoil that traces my jawline
and suffocates my esophagus
you and i need to be still,
be safe,
be subtle,
be still,
tie me up with your string of words,
end the struggle

you've got a lot to say
when you sigh
and you don't say anything
like:
you don't know what it's like everyday
and:
you're too young to understand why
you
tell me that it's not so simple
that
life isn't always the way it seems
and
seven hundred other cliches
about the time you almost jumped
and
how you're tired of just settling
how you're
being a fog that's settled at dawn
you're
fighting the urge to lay down and yawn
you
like to sleep,
to escape
i like to sleep
so i can dream
dreams of eyes that say everything,
like a glance
that radiates what your thoughts sing,
a moment
where all things feel invincible
a time
where i don't feel so invisible
where it all comes into place
laced in between your fingers
and then you kiss my face
but,
you don't say anything at all

you've got a lot to say
when you sigh
and you don't say anything
like:
you don't know what it's like
and:
you've too young to understand these things
you're being a fog that's settled at dawn
you're fighting the urge to lay down and yawn
you like to sleep
only for the hell of it
i like to sleep
so i can dream
dreams of sighs that say everything,
a glance that radiates what your thoughts sing
a moment where all things feel invincible
where it all comes into place
you don't say anything at all

you got a fast car
i want a ticket to anywhere
maybe we can make a deal
maybe together
we can get somewhere
anyplace is better
starting from zero
got nothing to lose
maybe we'll make somethin
me myself i got nothin to prove

i've been wondering
when it stops
people say it stops
when you want it to
but how do i tell that
to my dreams
when all i can think about
is running up to kiss you
in the parking lot of anywhere
it makes me wanna drink
and say everything
like sometimes i think about
what it would've been like
if i had let you go
when i
was still strong enough to do it
like i never knew hell
had such a pretty voice
like i tried to make it all day
without saying
"wish you were here"
like lately i've been going back
to all the places we've been
to see what it's like without you
it is the worst game
of hide & seek
every time i close my eyes
to count
you just go home
i seem to only wear my seat belt
on days you call
on days you're all *never been better
and i just wanna tell you
how much I hate window shopping
and daylight goodbyes
you just sit there
when you could say anything
you could tell me
you noticed i started drinking again
you could even make it up
you could say you miss me, too
you could say
you missed me so much
that the other day
you accidentally bought
two coffees instead of one
you could tell me
how you've been
without me
that you sleep so much better
these days
without having to worry
you can say what you have
to just don't say leaving
was like shooting fish in a barrel
cause i swear i'm nostalgic
for things i pretended were real
and i swear
i don't want a seance
until there's something
worth bringing back
take me back
to all the places i tried to love you
back to a time
where i knew my name  
without you having to say it

*you got a fast car
is it fast enough
so we can fly away
you gotta make a decision
leave tonight
or live & this way

everything i've wanted to tell you
i will tell you tomorrow
and the wait of it all doesn't even give you sorrow
these dilapidated sentence structures suffocate us,
they drown out our intricacy, our noisy illustrations
and i don't even want you to resuscitate me