I need to write more.
I need to write more since it's not coming out any other way.

I tried to speak to you.
I tried again last night.

The words would not come out,
I know it's cliche. I know it.

I've been neglecting my thoughts,
squishing them hard with my palms,
into a paste.
I've been trying to feed it to you,
but your mouth is shut and your head is turned.

It's ok, because I know there's nothing to love.
I'm not myself anymore.
I'm just hurting, that's all.

I understand that you don't want to live with me.
That's ok, because I know, I've tried escaping me too.
But I'm glued at the seams, and as much as I pull,
there's no breaking through.

Yes, you can walk away.
Yes, I'd like that in a way.

Since you're not pulling it out.
You're not eradicating my pain.

I must seem so silly to you.
So simple, too.

I don't blame you.
I don't blame you.

But I cannot erase the thoughts of girls saying exactly what you want them to say. I cannot erase the thought of you in bed with your best friend. I think you'd be a lot happier without my ****** up head. You'd be a whole lot happier without my ****** up head.