i'm sleepwalking
through my youth,
touching things
that don't touch me back,
wanting people
that break my heart
long before
i can break theirs.
and i wish
i could just disappear,
wouldn't make
any difference at all,
'cause i'm wrong
in so many ways,
telling lies
to pretend i'm whole.
what's the point?
was there one that i missed?
lost the interest
halfway through,
turned to nothing
by half past noon.
i'm so sorry;
i've been sleepwalking
through my youth.

i didn't ask to join
this endless race
towards some abstract goal
that i don't even want
to achieve.
it wasn't mine to begin with,
yet here i am,
dying for it,
locked in a box
with just enough space
to breathe.
who would've thought
that this is what living
feels like?
who would've thought
that this is how we all
choose to spend
our time?
buried in our own homes,
opening more wounds
with each
passing day,
scratching down the walls,
helplessly gasping
for air,
empty on the inside.

love, don't you come
close
to the fire.
oh, can't you see
how it burns?
melting my skin
down to ash and bones;
can't you feel
the longing inside?
forget who you were,
come alive
with desire.
oh, can't you see
how it burns?
love, don't you come
close
to the fire.

if i step into the dark,
don't follow me.
and if i become the dark,
forget me.
for the dark isn't black,
but red,
and it's drowning me.
i won't let you go down
by my side.

i'll write a prayer
to the silence,
a final act
of my defiance.
when there is nothing
left to preach,
i'll leave the altar,
burn the speech.
i'll bleed my faith,
and on the steps
i'll face the crowd
to make amends;
stand on my knees,
accept it all,
and say a prayer
before the fall.

i have a yearning
in my bones,
a restless,
all-consuming
hunger
to be my own,
instead of yours,
to break the grip
that keeps me under.
and if the line
is drawn too close,
the lack of air
does make
me wonder.
it burns like fire
in my bones,
this restless,
all-consuming
hunger.

you said that i'm wasting my time
on things that don't matter.
well, i'd rather be wasteful
than lonely.
the road to self-preservation
takes a lifetime and a half,
but on my third attempt
i think i'm finally getting
the hang of it.
and instead of shrinking in size
after every unpleasant comment
that makes no difference at all,
i expand into every direction
until there's no room to grow,
then a little bit more
afterwards.
and wouldn't you like to know
what i'm about to become,
wouldn't you want
to see me now?
well, i'm sorry for wasting your time,
but i'd rather be wasteful
than spend it
on trying to please
you.