I said hello like I thought you'd notice (you didn't)
and for once I didn't feel like repeating myself.
*******, you helped me notice all the things I hated,
all the things I loved.
Kept me wanting change.
Detoxification of thought,
purification of the soul.

You speak in sentences that are based on creative-product output,
it seems you don't care if you make sense or not, 'cause nothing in
this world is trying to fit to you.
So, why try and fit to it?
Or at least that's what I perceive you to think.
I guess we could think better of each other in a healing space
if we're all touching each other with good intentions.

Yet it seems these fingers that reach you can't heal in the way they intend,
'cause this nervousness is stemming from the inappropriate feelings that root themselves
from my core. **** love, **** this feeling.

I want a love that doesn't make me wrong in someone else's eyes,
much less my own.  **** this feeling.

*******, you are beautiful.
You are something else,
someone that would smile at the thought that
this is about you.
*******, I can't stop saying the same things.

Keep me close, I've crept out of my hole
and I can't stand it alone.
I haven't even touched my water colors.

Too afraid to poison you with the truth,
too afraid to taint what is beautiful.

**** this feeling.
I want to.
**** this feeling.