time's going by slower and
slower and it's getting hard
to look at myself in the
mirror but i did this to myself
and i know i did and i can feel
the regret creeping up behind
me and i can feel it crawling
on my skin and into my pores
and sinking it's teeth into my
bones
the pain is taking over and it's
getting hard to breathe and i
can't tell reality from nightmare
and maybe that's what i've been
after all along
why didn't you stop me why
would you ever let this happen
to me you let me tear the flesh
from my bones just for the show

you never understood why
i always wanted to stay in
every night and neither did
i but you forced me to go out
and expected me to be grateful
but you were hurting me and
i couldn't breathe and i tried
to tell you over and over it's
not helping but you never
listened and now you're angry
with me for cutting off the one
person that never really wanted
me to get better

So, there is nothing
that can arise from this
except for the ultimate
leveling: Maya Angelou
and Wallace Stevens: equals,
until opinion renders
their worth.

And the canvas colored
by Magritte’s vision is equal
to a child’s ***** matter
framed in a special place,
until your eye comes
and favors one over the other.

Yes, I’m ready to accept
this fate if it means no one
can ever declare
that my **** stinks
and makes the air faint.

Please, let me stay with him.
Let me keep him close.
Or at least promise me we will reunite.
Promise me that wasnt the last kiss,
Cause I dont know if my mind will keep it clear for a lifetime.
Promise me I'll hold his hand again, cause I doubt I can find something to fit between my fingers as well as he does.
Please, if you choose to set me apart from him dont make it long.

Cut your teeth
on gasoline,
white lies, small death
and saccharine.

Hollow chests,
empty smiles.
thoughts and hearts
will stop a while.

Cold hands,
cold hearts.
we're dangerous children
with poisonous darts.

We live another complication everyday,
Adding another thread to bind us.

It's been so long...
Can't move my wings, my limbs--
How did I get stuck?
Did I do this to myself?
The *puppeteer is pulling too hard!
I want to move,
But I can't
I'm twisted up,
The thread is too tight;
I can feel the dread of suffocation on the horizon.
I'm trying, I'm fighting,
I want to be free!
But I can't move anymore...

The thread won't let me,
The strings are being pulled too tight--
My prison, it cuts into my skin,
I can barely breathe enough to live on...
I want this suffering to end!

Aah! Yes...
I remember now,
I took the thread of my own free will!

It started that day...
When I heard them speak,
I did as they asked,
And the thread wound around me.
I didn't ask for answers and didn't speak of my questions;
I kept on going where their path lead,
And I ended up here:
Suffocated, stranded, in naïve ignorance.

Even though the puppeteer wants me to move,
Even though I can feel his anxiety to help;
He can't do a thing.
The thread has been wound too tight,
*If the thread won't snap soon,
I will.