I don't wanna write anymore
Don't wanna draw anymore
Don't wanna sing anymore
Don't wanna breathe anymore
When I was little they said I was wonderful at all these things
(Except for one
You can blame my dad who trashed my lungs)
And I
Being the budding flower of future disaster
Shaped myself around these things
I branded myself ART KID
I spent hours drawing the individual scales of fierce crayon dragons
I wanted to write and illustrate my own books
But when you get older you read Fitzgerald
When you get older you visit art museums
I can recognize a Rembrandt painting from across a hall so it's easy enough to recognize trash when I see it
Crumpled paper ***** lay scattered around my bedroom floor, my wastebin is full with wasted dreams and how did they ever let me think I could be worth something?
I guess I had potential
So they weren't really lying
But it hurts
You walk around in massive shoes expecting to grow into them but you just get blisters from the friction
I don't fit into this mold but I built it myself so why not?
It hurts
When you're used to the sun then suddenly night comes and you have to invent the lightbulb
But it was always there before
And now it's just gone
Like moments, like people, like potential
So where do we go from here?

heavy
it sets in heavy
in my bones and chest and conscience
and i think i've spent too many nights wishing and
i think it's not fair to anyone involved
(again
suicide coils around my heart
coaxing
never ever feel alone again)

Did you know you smell like home?
I can't really describe it any other way,
It's something so you,
And sometimes I'll catch it in the air and remember nights spent in your basement and my backyard and our endless kingdom.
I wonder if it's normal to recognize scents,
Not too unlike the warm and sweet air in the kitchen where cookies are baking
Except I always feel a little bad
Because i haven't quite convinced myself it's okay to love you this much.

And do you notice
The weight that fills the silence
When i take too long to send a short reply with any simple message?
It takes a lot for me to stop
To keep a clear head
If I don't focus I might slip up and call you baby
Darling, sweet, my love

Gotta get it into my thick skull somehow
You are not my love
You are not my love
You are not my love
And you are not my home
I backspace, can't call you baby
I know, I know
It's too much
I'm sorry

The worst part is that I don't want to let you go,
because I can't accept this life without you.

There's no risk in you.
I think it's what separates
us from each other.

I've been here too long,
I have "go" in my blood but
"stop" in both my hands.

I'm a boiling man,
and moving too fast for you.
Oil in my veins.

The world is spinning
way too fast to be insane,
I'm just keeping up.

its a coughing death
one of subtlety and only
passive irritation.
its a chosen death,
but slow, for the faint of heart
afraid to take the swift and sure route.
i know they **** me
but its exactly what
i want.

you changed
everything
for me
of what i knew
or thought i knew
of love
you redefined
you shaped
you molded
as if i was flat clay
which had no form
you formed me
bit by bit
slowly, gently
you smoothed out
my rough edges
you made me
a whole piece
with you,
or on my own
you changed
everything
everything
that i knew
of love