I feel like i spend all my time
trying to paint burning houses
always throwing myself into
these hopeless causes
Driving myself up crumbling walls
and wasting all my paint

Now my world only spins
in shades of monochromatic
my colorless eyes
looking oh so dramatic
what i wouldnt give for a
heart attack or severe fever
just so i could feel something

Ive got a reckless tounge
and a destination addiction
speaking words i wish i felt
in all these different positions
just waiting for the flash flood
to carry me somewhere new

But everywhere i go
its just the same old ****
the sun stares me down, i run
happiness is not worth it
so ill lock myself inside
this half a home
untill my sane abandons me
then
       maybe
                    I
                     Can
                            Sleep.

The level of internal honesty
within each of us

hinges  solely
around the exact nature  
of the  alliances  we have made