lies.lies.lies.lies.
acid usually makes me love. this time it made me hate.
soft, slow at first. until the tension builds up and washes over me like a flood. I came back to myself.
I woke up in the path of the headlights of a car. like a goddamn lifetime movie. sat shivering and still, so blank, so unaware. I looked through a dingy window to see bodies of the ones I used to know. there was a hint of summer and the sweet curling of marijuana smoke.
when there is no beginning and there is no end, there is no start, and there is no stop. who's to say why I am the way I am?
I can remember telling him, that if it wouldn't make such a mess, that I would rip off my skin just to see if there was something better underneath.
feet bare and cold, my very bones stiff and still. my steps echoing down the hallway that has never before seemed so long. wandering but never finding.
I watched him cry. saying, "I've already gotten over you, so why are you still here"? he sat on the bathroom floor, watching me endlessly try to fix my makeup, before quitely responding, "95 percent of our realationship is your cover-ups."
some unpretty things are in my head.
soft, slow at first. until the tension builds up and washes over me like a flood. I came back to myself.
I woke up in the path of the headlights of a car. like a goddamn lifetime movie. sat shivering and still, so blank, so unaware. I looked through a dingy window to see bodies of the ones I used to know. there was a hint of summer and the sweet curling of marijuana smoke.
when there is no beginning and there is no end, there is no start, and there is no stop. who's to say why I am the way I am?
I can remember telling him, that if it wouldn't make such a mess, that I would rip off my skin just to see if there was something better underneath.
feet bare and cold, my very bones stiff and still. my steps echoing down the hallway that has never before seemed so long. wandering but never finding.
I watched him cry. saying, "I've already gotten over you, so why are you still here"? he sat on the bathroom floor, watching me endlessly try to fix my makeup, before quitely responding, "95 percent of our realationship is your cover-ups."
some unpretty things are in my head.