hand the furnace a strait face.

[oceans_theory]

the brain matter in my skull was shape shifting, but my plans we under due. in my simple one-way alley catch phrase song, i threw for you a party, but the emotions were wrong. i danced the night away in my in my room. with my feet in the shoes that i bought exactly for you. the beats rolled off my toes like dew.
i dreamed you were on your way toward me, but three days late means your mind has won your heart on it's need to change. the nickles i've been betting have paid off, all the same. the simple little crimes we choose.
you learn and learn, and i wait and wait, and still only want you.
throw the salt over your battered arm and pretend college can change who you are. fecal matter brain storming, runs you years in the mud, but fucks you in the end with hotel art gallery marathons.
simple emotions cannot enrage me so, only plans that change and change and lies you tell with no shame.
a tiny locket full of blood, if i drink i cannot come back to this place i think i love. self-preserved for so many years, still a taste for sorrow, and a bitter taste for lust like wax in my ears. the cockpit's still empty, i'm told i can auto-pilot for a few more years, but after that the game is up, no more hollow eyes, no more ignoring hurt and fear.
sow the little faithless dreams.
in the end, it's all i never did.