i have sin written on the tip of my tongue,
i'm beginning to think i've been screaming for years
with the soul intention of committing to just something,
maybe anything, maybe nothing at all.
nostalgia takes its grip tighter than the way i imagine
the noose around his neck and tighter than the
first time you hugged me, god i swore i was meant to be there.
i think, i'm remembering things that took cover in my brain
things that didn't want to be seen,
possibly in mockery of me
i'm dripping sweat from thinking a drop of thought
could create an entirely new rendition of me in your mind,
i never cared to be okay, i never cared to stay