going, going, gone for good. personal and fleeting.
we tempt fridays by how we lick our lips and crush on acquaintances.
every smile, every moment of gratitude.
sparkling knives in my stomach split the knots, deny my right to enjoy anything you people have ever said to me.
i scour the internet for the things i want, but this town chains me down to hell.
fully clothed, i’m the permanent mascot of this place.
they call me the forever-idiot.
they know exactly what i mean when i open my mouth, but don’t say a thing.
wait and watch me suffer.
underwear on the floor, and heaven in vacant lonely eyes.
“synthesis,” she says.
“end me,” i say.
it’s not meant to be funny, but you laugh.
i prefer it that way.
sterile rooms and standard keys.
flake out on the good, fake out on the real.
i act like you’re stupid to ask me for help,
but i’m shellshocked anyways.
these are the things we can’t talk about.
so shield your eyes from the light, and look away.
this is the moment i’d pay to leave.
but enough of this.
i’m putting my foot down, or maybe just laying it gently on the ground.
find people who want your hair on their comforter.
find an ottoman that won’t go to a dump.
find a shirt you really won’t stain with hurt.
i’ll keep pushing through the crowd so i’m not in the picture.
i’ll keep finding a moment i wish people were seeing.