i'd rather take you away,
and **** you my self,
than never see you,
and know you’re the cutest ******,
that town has ever seen,
and have the prettiest hands,
that have ever made,
domino’s pizza.

Why must we torture ourselves?
i haven’t had nicotine in days,
caffeine in weeks,
and only 2 meals a day,
and yet i feel so strung up;
tied to the habits i didn’t even hold on to.

its a horrible trick:
to show yourself such a beautiful image,
of what could be,
knowing especially the ****,
that is underneath,
and under that?
Sure its a light so full,
gold doesn’t even come near.

i always find this here,
in the realm of my heart:
my true nature all around,
and my tears all on the ground.
For i could have, would have, should have,
all day long,
but what did i?
No i was not; we must’ve both been mistaken.

i’d promise you heaven,
but you can only give it to yourself,
and as for the rest of us here:
well we will blow around like tumbleweeds,
at the bottom of this oxygen ocean,
flowing hitherto from the last accident,
as it burns through, and from us.

this is not poetry,
this is not even clever,
words to scream so nobody will hear,
if nothing else,
i’ve got lungs to ******* breathe about it.