please don't ever fall in love.

yes, at first, it's going to be the most beautiful thing in the world.
at first you're going to forget why you built the walls around your heart.
after all, how can something so beautiful break your heart?
how can someone so beautiful break your heart?
someone with a voice as sweet as his, eyes as deep as his,
hugs as warm as his…
how can you ever be so afraid of someone like him?

but it's only a matter of time before you remember:
love isn't the beautiful thing he makes you think it is.
love is the rollercoaster that traumatized you as a kid,
and one drop is enough to remind you why you were so afraid of it.

maybe he hasn't done anything wrong.
but maybe he said something that rubbed you off the wrong way.
maybe there was something about the look in his eyes
or maybe there was something about,
well, i don't know,
but there must be something.
and it may be nothing, but it's still something.
maybe the butterflies were dying,
maybe the ballads were warnings,
maybe the sweet nothings were nothing.

maybe he's just like everybody else.

and so, brick by brick, you put up the walls again,
but then he breaks them down again with something as insignificant as a smile or a simple question
but it's him and there's nothing about him that doesn't matter to you.

maybe he's not like everybody else.

everybody else doesn’t have eyes that shine like his does.
everybody else doesn’t shine like he does.
he’s that star in the sky that you point at and say,
“that’s my star.”

but even if it’s your star,
it doesn’t shine just for you -
it shines for everybody.
what if somebody else also looks at your star every night?
what if somebody else also points at your star and says, “that’s my star”?
what if?
you fill your head with “what if’s” instead of what is,
and that’s what kills you.
but you can't tell anyone because you know you're different.
you know they won’t understand;
they don't feel everything quite like you do.
your forest fires are candlelight to them,
your hurricanes mere drizzles,
your burns just paper cuts.
you take xanax? they drink water.
you cut yourself? they exercise.

everything to you is nothing to them.
so if you tell them, they’re just going to judge you.
if you tell him, he’s just going to judge you.
after all, he’s just like everybody else.
and everybody else will hurt you.
heck, even you will hurt you.

so, i’m begging you,
please don’t ever fall in love -
not even with yourself.

I walk along the tight rope in shame.
Whispering to myself "hold your **** together''
Halfway through, almost reaching the end, the pain surges, electrocuting through my whole body, static.
I fall
Not knowing how I'm going to land.
She jumps out from inside of me as I hit the sandy ground.
Head jolts, slow motion review.
Hurting, the pain I deserve, for knowing, knowing too much. the power consumes.
It rushes like a harsh wind, like a storm that cannot be unveiled.
Yielding inside of me, she bursts, and explodes like a thunder exhibition.
Laying next to me, only I can see her.
Her dark eyes staring into mine, I try to look past the horror.
"Don't leave me" a careless whisper.
She vanishes into thin air, I lose myself in despair.
I stare up at the high ceiling, waiting for the other ones to give me life and healing.
One unleashes, but one of fury and anger, Sukubus, the fighter.
She gets up in an aggressive explosive motion and attacks everyone around her viciously.
Here I am again, switching.
Switching, needing those people inside of me to keep me alive.
Like a spirit, without them I am dead.
Creation of the mind fighting against reality trying to show, but hiding in promiscuity.
I'm a good liar, choosing to be honest.
The will I have has weakened to the inner pits of my core, and without these personas, I am nothing but a rotting corpse.
So, I ask for those around me to stop judging me please.
I am only trying, trying for so long, that doing has me acting out too **** impulsively.
Forgive me, I was born to sin, but to love so passionately, a loyal mind of pure integrity.
I wish not to be so alone in melancholy, but defeated, so I stand alone, trying to survive the unknown.
I open my eyes, looking around me, seeing everyone dead, blood scattered and bodies twisted.
I get up, and start again, unleashing another personality.

I am a sculptor.
An artist.
My masterpiece? Myself.

Every curve, layer of paint,
Every shadow or exposed face,

All cultivated. Planned.
Incorporating all I know
And that which I do not know

Yet.

But you have only a picture.
A photo.
An image from just one angle.

And all that you recognise is
A flat
Two dimensional
Processed scrap of film.

I walk the line between love and hate
This apple's bad and rotten, rotten to the core
Get up, get up, and trick or treat
Get down, get down, my love!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between war and peace
My business is a little **** Bill
I eat so much I don't walk I merely waddle!
No you wouldn't listen & I don't blame you
No I don't blame ya!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between yin & yang
My rent is 0 a day
I can't move
You know that's the price you pay
Is life all in vain?
Starts off in my arm
Opens up my brain
I'm already in the nivarana -
Next stop is the paradise!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between life and and death
Live fast, die young
Live fast, die young
I walk the line
Hate
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between joy and depression
While others have been thinking about it - I've been there and back
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between good and evil

i was watered like a garden
then drowned in all the rain
they said it’d help me grow
but it just dilutes my taste.

(i was brewed like a strong *** of coffee
but i didn’t know how to say no
when they asked if i needed more ice cubes)

I do some weird things.
I say some weird things.
I am bored and looking for a reaction.
My habits floored and looking for a faction.
I haven't had anyone to hang out with since I was seven.
And that best friend was exiled when I was eleven.
So now I wait.
Ponder what it would be like in heaven.
Then I state.
I am annoying and irritating, disgusting and rude.
Smart alic, stupid, and never really a dude.
I wish I was better, not so crude.
But I have not pushed past my limits,
So I stay in a feud.
Each thing I do only in a mood.
I have no real friends,
Problems without that being pursued.
I mean I have nobody I hang out with.
Probably nobody who to me wouldn't have a doubt with.
I think I can just go without this.
But I don't know if this loneliness is what I am about with.
I try to talk an make jokes.
Yet I am not funny, and my ideas are just yolks.
I am not relate-able.
Just debatable.
And for most people.
Disliked and seen as unstable.