derka derka derka
failed attempts at : making it to class, conversation, homework, sleeping, life in general
laying sick in bed unable to sleep unable to move unwilling to think, staring at the bubbles on my ceiling
the comfort in a good bottle of wine (or two) and the ease of a safety glass smile
talks of reincarnation and philosophy and life and who whatsits on the front porch while the scent of fall teasing and scornful, caresses in the night
home to my bed and my head is brimming swimming teeming with delusions
watching a film and he's more twisted up than i am false senses of relief im always trying to prolong
sleepovers that lead nowhere but i still long for the bit of extra warmth on the sheets after they're gone
always busily rushing and fussing about nothing and nowhere
the bigger picture gets more confusing as the post-its consume more and more
carpools and stolen margaritas, bong rips and floppy dildos
friends come and gone, but it all feels the same
longing for closer but i cant play the games
tequila and cigarettes (but im not supposed to tell)
missions that are conceived to be impossible the crash is softer if you can brace for the landing
the weirdness in my gut doenst seem to spread so much anymore
or is it that im getting better at pretending its not there
anger eating through the core of it all stripping everything down til its raw
what is it that i have to do to carve you out of my head
id do it i promise just to not have that _______
filling in the blank and you know it would work
besides i know im the only one sorry im not around anymore
its not so bad im tired of having to tell myself that
panic attacks and crushing frustration lead to dropped classes and more opened schedules
detatchment from humanity does it fuel or stunt
either way its hard for me to give up
laying sick in bed unable to sleep unable to move unwilling to think, staring at the bubbles on my ceiling
the comfort in a good bottle of wine (or two) and the ease of a safety glass smile
talks of reincarnation and philosophy and life and who whatsits on the front porch while the scent of fall teasing and scornful, caresses in the night
home to my bed and my head is brimming swimming teeming with delusions
watching a film and he's more twisted up than i am false senses of relief im always trying to prolong
sleepovers that lead nowhere but i still long for the bit of extra warmth on the sheets after they're gone
always busily rushing and fussing about nothing and nowhere
the bigger picture gets more confusing as the post-its consume more and more
carpools and stolen margaritas, bong rips and floppy dildos
friends come and gone, but it all feels the same
longing for closer but i cant play the games
tequila and cigarettes (but im not supposed to tell)
missions that are conceived to be impossible the crash is softer if you can brace for the landing
the weirdness in my gut doenst seem to spread so much anymore
or is it that im getting better at pretending its not there
anger eating through the core of it all stripping everything down til its raw
what is it that i have to do to carve you out of my head
id do it i promise just to not have that _______
filling in the blank and you know it would work
besides i know im the only one sorry im not around anymore
its not so bad im tired of having to tell myself that
panic attacks and crushing frustration lead to dropped classes and more opened schedules
detatchment from humanity does it fuel or stunt
either way its hard for me to give up