I put on a cutesy voice because I’m the unexpected murderer of happiness. It makes more of an impact acting like a dumb blonde ***** to society’s expectations, that when I come out with ****** methods one wants to scream and run away. I’ll tell you what makes me squirm, being touched and googling fear of holes. Those pictures make me want to ***** and **** myself at the same time. Gore and pain…I can handle. But loads of deep circular imprints on the skin from leaning on things…no.no.no. I can’t. It will make me implode.
Animals walking on two feet with a vindictive demeanor and a lustful passion to multiply. Constructing tall grey buildings to rot in till their core. An infinity of dirt in the constricted paradise of cleanliness and sweat. They take poison to recreate their animalistic character; small round pills of concentrated electricity and happiness. Freedom in conductive shots.
Pursuing the inevitable chase of the moon
An endeavour I wished not to be apart in
But however here I reside in my vessel
With my painted pictures of misery
lining healed skin
Chasing after pale radiation
And avoiding demise
But I trip
For I am in no rush
As the earth leaves without me
It rotates with no regrets
Rush into the haze
And I watch
With four sore eyes
And a lack of sight
I just need the world to stop for a second,
So I can knot my brain together.
Don't treat me like a child
Because I've been here for fifteen years.
These tired eyes have lived the world
And are still eager to accept more
I have seen demise
I've lived in a death oppressed mind
A have, been in the coma of death
But resurrected no doubt
By the chemicals of hospitalised insanity.
I love the world
And by that I mean
The world does not love me back
Nothing loves me back.
But I still love
How ever human we may be
We will always be stuck down
By authority figures
Giving us, not guidelines
But detailed blueprints
On how we go by our days
Its a pain
But its life
We have to deal with it
Like how we deal with our cards
I'm not sure what you've pulled
Out of the pack
It doesn't compare with the bloodstained broken hearts I have.
Like every teenager I would assume that it doesn't.
Because I reside in my mechanical mind
Powered by words sung in gritty harmony
You are humans
to your preferred ***.
And you shall live and die
getting over the news in a average week.
Drinking six foot deep into beer bottles
Thinking about the days that have passed
Five months since I
Touched your sweet ***.
I'm not one for falling in love
Or having a crush as such
But sometimes I really do
Want to scream in your face about
How ******* great you are
And how my tummy goes all squiggly just thinking about you and
Your pretty face
Your dry sense of humour and lack of giving a ****
Me and you
We go together
You may not know but
I feel it in my gut
We'll get along listening
Favourite songs and
We even share the similar tastes in movies
Which we could cuddle to and talk about
That would be the great bit about me and you
We'd talk about the world, our hearts and brains
But nothing would ever change
We'd still act like
The kids we're know for acting like but
We'd share this fondness which
No one could ignore
I just want you to think the same too
Me and you would get along.