there's nothing worse
than being deemed uninhabitable
by the people with the power
to light fires in your soul.

I am yelling "I'm different."
please paint my contents.
look behind my shipwrecked mind.
find such violent tidal waves I know that I can fight.
I stay alive.

my pain will always cause thunderstorms.
sometimes death represents suspense.
its ruthless, depressing thoughts
will let me sleep when I'm dead.

complacency will be the death of me.
run full speed ahead as I catch
the northbound bus to Portland,
whispering "aha, we meet again,"
as a way of keeping me on my toes.
get my adrenaline pumping,
use your british accent
to make me lose control.
I need to inject some excitement
in through my arm, and you'll be
the one to do it.
these things can be done cheaply
and they can be done often.

listen here, scarecrow. that might be her sign
that she's meant to be here, and who's to say that she's wrong?
she had hell handed to her with her eggs and her bacon,
but she still believes in good karma.
girls like that will leave you praying for a cold spell
in the back seat of their range rover,
even though you're sure as **** not going to
treat her any differently in the morning.
in sunday school, they grabbed us by the shoulders
and stared into our eyes until we
repeated those universal truths:
what goes up must come down,
don't swim right after you eat,
even satan believes that there's something out there.

in the center of Jersey, I think of his breath.
how his chest expands and contracts
and stops moving all together when he thinks of her bones.

all the girls with the monogrammed backpacks
and their cookie cutter smiles
were plucked from galaxies,
while I was dug up from the ground.

he’s taking her like she’s medicine,
and people aren’t made that way.
there she sits, idle.
coughing up her own ****** lungs
like there’s some sort of return policy,
I can tell. after all, that girl was once me.

he's taking you like you're medicine
and people aren't made that way.