(no subject)
rearranging words to make scentences that make no sense to anyone but me.
i don't want to be happy anymore.
time isnt passing quite the way it should, sometimes the sesond hand gets stuck and doesn't move,
and other the PM arrives before the AM truely finished.
When my brain is in chaos i make sure everywhere else is in order.
silent and clean and sterilised.
When things go wrong in my world it doesn't change my behaviour.
everything is always wrong.
and nothing ever turns out like it should.
And you say i 'look blank and feel cold',
And i reply 'there are some benefits to being dead on the inside.'
My hearts counting halfs of seconds and they're all counting down to death.
What's going to happen when we survive the apocalypse.
i'm still alive, and i'm still here.
sometimes the only thing we can be sure of is that we are alive.
the sun is rising and i've yet to fall (asleep)
you're almost accusing me of cheating on your memory.
ghost whispering.
you're not there anymore but that doesn't mean anyone else could be.
or maybe this is all in my head and secretly i just want to be alone.
sometimes i can wake up and know today is going to be a bad day.
sometimes i don't get to sleep, but i still know this day will be horrible.
who am i kidding this 'bad day' is everyday.
i'm going crazy trying to get sane.
This place feels like a hospital with sub-zero temperatures.
i suppose that makes it a coroner's office.
Which makes us the dead.
people always smile in greeting
it's hard to do it back when sometimes it feels like thoses muscles corroded away from lack of use.
open heart surgery doesn't feel as invasive as you staring down my soul.
eye contact with you is letting you see my hopes and dreams and listening to you tell me 'you can never...'
you're trying to put togethor te puzzle of me but every other piece is missing so none of them fit togethor.
i'm trying to grip at the seconds like a kid does with sand.
the tighter you grip the faster they go.
im im counting the seconds and feeling myself decay from inside out.
We were never alive.
The worst thing i could do to you is love you, because you would always end up hurt.
subconciously we never want the pain we conciously crave to distract us.
for now i'd rather be anywhere but here.
i detest my picture perfect life.
everything is where it should be
so i must go where i should not.
the rooms are only grey as i enter and until i leave.
i'm imagining the lines cut by light are fatal.
let's bleed out and fade away.
and everybody always asks if im ok
and i could reply with never been better but that doesn't really mean all that much.
i don't want to be happy anymore.
time isnt passing quite the way it should, sometimes the sesond hand gets stuck and doesn't move,
and other the PM arrives before the AM truely finished.
When my brain is in chaos i make sure everywhere else is in order.
silent and clean and sterilised.
When things go wrong in my world it doesn't change my behaviour.
everything is always wrong.
and nothing ever turns out like it should.
And you say i 'look blank and feel cold',
And i reply 'there are some benefits to being dead on the inside.'
My hearts counting halfs of seconds and they're all counting down to death.
What's going to happen when we survive the apocalypse.
i'm still alive, and i'm still here.
sometimes the only thing we can be sure of is that we are alive.
the sun is rising and i've yet to fall (asleep)
you're almost accusing me of cheating on your memory.
ghost whispering.
you're not there anymore but that doesn't mean anyone else could be.
or maybe this is all in my head and secretly i just want to be alone.
sometimes i can wake up and know today is going to be a bad day.
sometimes i don't get to sleep, but i still know this day will be horrible.
who am i kidding this 'bad day' is everyday.
i'm going crazy trying to get sane.
This place feels like a hospital with sub-zero temperatures.
i suppose that makes it a coroner's office.
Which makes us the dead.
people always smile in greeting
it's hard to do it back when sometimes it feels like thoses muscles corroded away from lack of use.
open heart surgery doesn't feel as invasive as you staring down my soul.
eye contact with you is letting you see my hopes and dreams and listening to you tell me 'you can never...'
you're trying to put togethor te puzzle of me but every other piece is missing so none of them fit togethor.
i'm trying to grip at the seconds like a kid does with sand.
the tighter you grip the faster they go.
im im counting the seconds and feeling myself decay from inside out.
We were never alive.
The worst thing i could do to you is love you, because you would always end up hurt.
subconciously we never want the pain we conciously crave to distract us.
for now i'd rather be anywhere but here.
i detest my picture perfect life.
everything is where it should be
so i must go where i should not.
the rooms are only grey as i enter and until i leave.
i'm imagining the lines cut by light are fatal.
let's bleed out and fade away.
and everybody always asks if im ok
and i could reply with never been better but that doesn't really mean all that much.