(0254) queen bee socialist
walking with the imaginary people, i walk right out their doors. living inside the corpse of myself, i look behind me 'til i turn around. there's too much going on in front of my eyes. social networking leaves me feeling ill. we communicate at the touch of a click, click, click... is there really any sign of life? is there any meaning behind any of the words that i write? i just eventually, constantly blink and sigh. i'll leave it here in the sideways rain and hope it catches up with me. coughed up my heart and shoved it past the silence that never seems to leave. somewhere down the line through the vortex of time, i'll be holding on to what is left. there is nothing original; nothing unique. all i can do is just wait around. a symphony of joy shoots me through the head. the bullet gets lost in my stomach. i start to yell and scream for help. it's then i realize i don't exist, and it's then that i become content. give me some letters, and i'll spell them out to form something i shouldn't want to believe. a piece of your skin and some insulin to keep me from going into shock. being animated is part of the act. i'd rather be a photograph with an outer shell made of porcelain, and when you break it, it's still intact. let the insincere chase their own tails all night long if they must. they have nothing but misguided thoughts. there's nothing there to touch. do i seem down? i am.
death. silence. loss. hunger. all symptoms of a missing piece of the puzzle. i shiver but move on with the rest. something is different, and i feel it choking me in the air. neither one of us can speak. we're not allowed. we know the secret but can't give it away... and i need it to stay alive. we act oblivious and indirect because we must, but i would give anything i could. it's a circle i keep drawing. it's a ghost i can't touch... a road i can't travel on. we become spiders at night. feeling around for the light. perfection is debatable, but it's the perception that damages me. do we only doubt to sabotage as a result of our insecurity? if i keep burning, will it somehow make me whole? if i can't find a cure for my vertigo, how will i know which way to go? how will i know? tell me. you won't. i'll fade, slow and painful.
i think we should embark on the longest journey in the dark to the stars of the furthest unknown galaxy. there will be nothing else but unread books on our shelves, and our skin cells will forever regenerate. all the scars would be gone, and if we turned the radio on, it would only play our favorite songs as we slept in an eternal bliss. you'd put a fork in your ribs, and you'd arrive in a spaceship... if you could open your lips, what would you try to say? this will always be mine because it's what i've designed to hold me in time and keep me rational. and you wrote me a note that only filled me with false hope and the longings of being broke in your apathy. i was missed by a train and walked back home in the rain with tears leaving my eyes so i decided to blame it on a certain kind of divine intervention. and the extent of your scent makes a full-scale dent in the dim chamber of my moving blood and history. she said she just slit her wrists for attention, but she somehow forgot to mention that there were actually connections between the thoughts and actions that preceded her. her instability was caused by the governing laws of a long-lost resolve to deal with her closet of skeletons. and i wish i was able to wipe you off of this table. please don't give me a label. i don't think i could handle that.
and i awoke to this joke. there was no shortage of smoke, and the language of your words hit my character. then, the black charred remains were fed into the holes of my brain, and the pain left my body in an instant. we were closed from within when suddenly, a syringe was destroying everything that made us flinch throughout our wasted and forgotten youth. and as our parents had warned us of that oncoming storm, we were oblivious to what was borne from our youthful and intoxicating innocence. we found the colorful sky had fallen without purpose as we realized we would never surface from this underwater circus of compromise.
there is no prediction. only coincidence. there is no decision. only consequence. delusions practically out of line while derailment keeps me lost inside the rhyme. boredom sticks to me like glue, and impulse offers nothing new. emotion kills the personality. indifference? i don't even know which one is me. all i ever had were lucid thoughts, and i'm probably supposed to connect every single dot. an info-gap decision theory past where the paradox always causes a relapse. victim of your instrument by day and hung out to dry where i have no other choice but to stay. chopped up just like every single piece of meat that we're not wanting to have to eat. no point to talk if you're asleep, but i keep a lonesome pen hidden up my sleeve.
simple - the way that i love you. complex - the reasons for which i do. borderline psychic premonitions are slowly warning me of the oncoming collapse and demolition. i don't care because you don't care about me. move to the next one and drown with the other fish in the sea. people die, and we have no remorse. logically passive without trying to open your doors. sedation saves us from the corners of our minds. in limbo, i leave her face hidden behind the blinds. surgery only loosens what i'm trying to hold, and hazy drugs only keep me halfway cold. bleeding on the side of the road, you run me over to make sure i don't make it home.
death. silence. loss. hunger. all symptoms of a missing piece of the puzzle. i shiver but move on with the rest. something is different, and i feel it choking me in the air. neither one of us can speak. we're not allowed. we know the secret but can't give it away... and i need it to stay alive. we act oblivious and indirect because we must, but i would give anything i could. it's a circle i keep drawing. it's a ghost i can't touch... a road i can't travel on. we become spiders at night. feeling around for the light. perfection is debatable, but it's the perception that damages me. do we only doubt to sabotage as a result of our insecurity? if i keep burning, will it somehow make me whole? if i can't find a cure for my vertigo, how will i know which way to go? how will i know? tell me. you won't. i'll fade, slow and painful.
i think we should embark on the longest journey in the dark to the stars of the furthest unknown galaxy. there will be nothing else but unread books on our shelves, and our skin cells will forever regenerate. all the scars would be gone, and if we turned the radio on, it would only play our favorite songs as we slept in an eternal bliss. you'd put a fork in your ribs, and you'd arrive in a spaceship... if you could open your lips, what would you try to say? this will always be mine because it's what i've designed to hold me in time and keep me rational. and you wrote me a note that only filled me with false hope and the longings of being broke in your apathy. i was missed by a train and walked back home in the rain with tears leaving my eyes so i decided to blame it on a certain kind of divine intervention. and the extent of your scent makes a full-scale dent in the dim chamber of my moving blood and history. she said she just slit her wrists for attention, but she somehow forgot to mention that there were actually connections between the thoughts and actions that preceded her. her instability was caused by the governing laws of a long-lost resolve to deal with her closet of skeletons. and i wish i was able to wipe you off of this table. please don't give me a label. i don't think i could handle that.
and i awoke to this joke. there was no shortage of smoke, and the language of your words hit my character. then, the black charred remains were fed into the holes of my brain, and the pain left my body in an instant. we were closed from within when suddenly, a syringe was destroying everything that made us flinch throughout our wasted and forgotten youth. and as our parents had warned us of that oncoming storm, we were oblivious to what was borne from our youthful and intoxicating innocence. we found the colorful sky had fallen without purpose as we realized we would never surface from this underwater circus of compromise.
there is no prediction. only coincidence. there is no decision. only consequence. delusions practically out of line while derailment keeps me lost inside the rhyme. boredom sticks to me like glue, and impulse offers nothing new. emotion kills the personality. indifference? i don't even know which one is me. all i ever had were lucid thoughts, and i'm probably supposed to connect every single dot. an info-gap decision theory past where the paradox always causes a relapse. victim of your instrument by day and hung out to dry where i have no other choice but to stay. chopped up just like every single piece of meat that we're not wanting to have to eat. no point to talk if you're asleep, but i keep a lonesome pen hidden up my sleeve.
simple - the way that i love you. complex - the reasons for which i do. borderline psychic premonitions are slowly warning me of the oncoming collapse and demolition. i don't care because you don't care about me. move to the next one and drown with the other fish in the sea. people die, and we have no remorse. logically passive without trying to open your doors. sedation saves us from the corners of our minds. in limbo, i leave her face hidden behind the blinds. surgery only loosens what i'm trying to hold, and hazy drugs only keep me halfway cold. bleeding on the side of the road, you run me over to make sure i don't make it home.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home