I like being busy
There's no surprise in that,
It's the only way to survive and make the voices quiet that argue in my head.
I like being busy
It's the only way I've known,
To burry down those feelings
That keep on surfacing on their own.
I like being busy
I enjoy being burnt out
Because that's how I muffle the agony from the bleeding cut.
I don't want a moment of silence
Because that's when
The voices in my head are
The loudest.
They Mourne, they agonize, they miss,
They sympathize.
And then all I have is this burning feeling which is
The darkest.

Even the sun burns out

Manufactured moans
My stomach turns to stones
I cannot feel, how I used to is a flare
Each second after I am left
Left to something odd; my mind
My mind can’t place or displace
Everything evaporates
Not much is left to salvage
The rubble vibrates
Turning into winged creatures
They escape through my mouth
It’s over
Feeling
Fleeing

I liked how you talked once upon a time.
But beauty and the beast is black and white.
I'm an all or nothing kind of guy.
Guess I'm not really what you like.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought we felt a similar thing.
Cigarettes in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now,
A body is all you're worth.
So it's over, I know you now.
A little piece of heaven, tasting like dirt.
So it's over, I know you now.
If there's a crowd, you'll say the words.

Found out why you sit a lot by yourself.
Two trains of thought and mine's running out.
Away from you, I hope you're burning,
I won't feel those flames by the morning.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought that we felt a similar thing.
Cigarette tips in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now.
Just a girl.
So it's over, I know you now.
A backroom museum piece.
So it's over, I know you now.
No pictures, please.
No pictures please.

Flames.
Flames result in something burning into ashes.
The stronger ones, that resist, are not saved from the effects either.
                                                                ­                             They blacken.

And when a fire and passion as strong as ours burns out, one of us is going to be reduced to ashes and the other one is going to carry the weight of the darkest heart around.

I strive to keep us ablaze because somewhere I know that the pain of being reduced to nothingness is much lesser than carrying around a broken piece of what once was.

                                                           ­                     Burnt from all sides.

And I know that I'm the one who's going to resist.
                                                         ­                                         Oh, I fear.