YEAH MAYBE
he's shouting over the music, and he's hugging me slipping his hand into my bone's curve.
by accident maybe think because i've been waiting for this sort of thing from him for years and, why not now? now i'm leaving. of course everyone is acting this way, the way they did when i changed schools as a child, a wee unlovable fat child. following that rubric it'll be years before i have friends again. summertime picnic lies.
and he's screaming the same, "you're invested here! you're invested with me! i need you!"
and he's slagging, turning into a pile of dirt with drunken, sudden misery, "come on, suzette! i did my best! i always responded! back and forth."
"yeah, on myspace!"
"i'm not the guy that calls!"
the loud, needy girls always win and it has constantly frustrated me. i'm so loud with most aspects, so quiet when it comes to love.
but strong in my resolve.
i say, "well, maybe by the time i'm back you'll have grown out of that." the sort of things i say.
and he throws up his hands, "it's not the sort of thing i'll grow out of!" those explosions. "look! come into the hall!"
i remember the things that were great. year after year, pressed into a painting or stairwell, trapped with ideas, the forest of these terrible, damaging lights. our two minds were dangerous and i wanted it, but he always pulled away. gone with whatever girl he was with. i thought it was me.
"i always liked you! i always liked you!" that kind of thing. "i tried, suzette!" i'm dodging a kiss.
"i'm not leaving because of you!" i shout. his mouth lands on my ear. "listen to me!" and he pulls me, falling on me.
"suzette! i've been so good lately."
"i'm glad."
and then into my ear, "i'm seeing this girl."
she's on his back. he drags me back into the stairs, putting that hand by my bone again, slipping beneath my coat.
she's on his back. fine yes. some punk with her gang of girls. i was just reflecting on how great to be with the girls and give attention to each other.
maybe it's from greg. people always say, "you're so quiet!" to me now.
i don't want to be old and uninterested.
i keep my mind aloft, on the shelf with all that drunk up whiskey of which i'm fond... tonight i've found.
he's back, spilling me up with his day, the things that are great about me. wonderful.
"you're smart!"
"well thanks." but i have chosen darkness.
let's be honest. let's be serious. how much fun can you really be? for me? i don't want to be your friend if you have a girlfriend.
how much can you really give me?
she's busting in between us, "someone tried to take my pants!"
and then to me, "my friend thinks you're cute. he wants to date you!"
and me, "i'm leaving."
and to him, "i'm a quitter."
it's small of me, i know.
and she's pulling him to leave and he's pulling me into a painting. it falls with us, like old times.
she's saying to her friends, "i know. he doesn't like me. let's just go."
but don't cry, girl. he's coming along. i'm sending him along. i'm tired of fighting and i'm tired of you.
so hey there, fuck shit city. these are your people. these are not mine. take them. take your shitty men and have your renaissance. your daughters will be dumb like their mothers. i'm leaving because i feel very alone. i can not possibly feel more alone so i have decided i may as well be really alone.
i am choosing myself and i have chosen darkness. you're shouting at me from your grave.
by accident maybe think because i've been waiting for this sort of thing from him for years and, why not now? now i'm leaving. of course everyone is acting this way, the way they did when i changed schools as a child, a wee unlovable fat child. following that rubric it'll be years before i have friends again. summertime picnic lies.
and he's screaming the same, "you're invested here! you're invested with me! i need you!"
and he's slagging, turning into a pile of dirt with drunken, sudden misery, "come on, suzette! i did my best! i always responded! back and forth."
"yeah, on myspace!"
"i'm not the guy that calls!"
the loud, needy girls always win and it has constantly frustrated me. i'm so loud with most aspects, so quiet when it comes to love.
but strong in my resolve.
i say, "well, maybe by the time i'm back you'll have grown out of that." the sort of things i say.
and he throws up his hands, "it's not the sort of thing i'll grow out of!" those explosions. "look! come into the hall!"
i remember the things that were great. year after year, pressed into a painting or stairwell, trapped with ideas, the forest of these terrible, damaging lights. our two minds were dangerous and i wanted it, but he always pulled away. gone with whatever girl he was with. i thought it was me.
"i always liked you! i always liked you!" that kind of thing. "i tried, suzette!" i'm dodging a kiss.
"i'm not leaving because of you!" i shout. his mouth lands on my ear. "listen to me!" and he pulls me, falling on me.
"suzette! i've been so good lately."
"i'm glad."
and then into my ear, "i'm seeing this girl."
she's on his back. he drags me back into the stairs, putting that hand by my bone again, slipping beneath my coat.
she's on his back. fine yes. some punk with her gang of girls. i was just reflecting on how great to be with the girls and give attention to each other.
maybe it's from greg. people always say, "you're so quiet!" to me now.
i don't want to be old and uninterested.
i keep my mind aloft, on the shelf with all that drunk up whiskey of which i'm fond... tonight i've found.
he's back, spilling me up with his day, the things that are great about me. wonderful.
"you're smart!"
"well thanks." but i have chosen darkness.
let's be honest. let's be serious. how much fun can you really be? for me? i don't want to be your friend if you have a girlfriend.
how much can you really give me?
she's busting in between us, "someone tried to take my pants!"
and then to me, "my friend thinks you're cute. he wants to date you!"
and me, "i'm leaving."
and to him, "i'm a quitter."
it's small of me, i know.
and she's pulling him to leave and he's pulling me into a painting. it falls with us, like old times.
she's saying to her friends, "i know. he doesn't like me. let's just go."
but don't cry, girl. he's coming along. i'm sending him along. i'm tired of fighting and i'm tired of you.
so hey there, fuck shit city. these are your people. these are not mine. take them. take your shitty men and have your renaissance. your daughters will be dumb like their mothers. i'm leaving because i feel very alone. i can not possibly feel more alone so i have decided i may as well be really alone.
i am choosing myself and i have chosen darkness. you're shouting at me from your grave.