why do you put a clock in the room
if you really only live by
your own perception
of time

the chalkboard chatters
in its different languages
ancient ways
am i supposed to understand?
understand all of this
it’s just chalkboard chatter
- not important to me
i’m important to them

i don’t care
if you cut your hair
you’re still there
for me
aren’t you?

i don’t care
if you ruin our garden
we’re still here
for each other
aren’t we?

i don’t care
if you ruin my hair
i’ll still be there
for you
won’t i?

maybe i should care
but then again
i don’t
do i?

i thought the black
was a reflection
of his soul
i was wrong
but not really
it wasn’t a soulless black
it was the colour
of all the colours

it hurts
to feel good
it feels good
to hurt

my bond
to fictional characters
come from the lack
of real people

they tell me
i won’t get anywhere
if i don’t follow the rules
but honey
**** it
i want to be everywhere