A scattered series of thoughts from a mind that just won't rest.
I can't cry. It's not because I don't feel it, I just can't. It's not like I don't have the ability, I just can't. I can't cry.
Back and forth. In between. Stuck. Swings.
He's the best thing. He's all I want. Sometimes. Be here with me. Go away. Talk to me. Leave me alone. All I know is to push people away. What's the point of dragging people down with me when the bottom is temporary? He wants to make the journey with me. He wants to make sure I get home safe. Home isn't anywhere specific, it isn't anything I want.
There aren't words. There might be but I don't know them. I might know things but I can't go there. That means it's real. I love you too much to let you spiral and fall with me. Just be there when I climb out. I'll escape... I always do.
I should've told you. I should've said something, anything.
It's just not fair. Not to me- to you.
Buckle up the booster seat.
This water is luke warm. Go back and forth between the col and hot. Cold will freeze it all out. Slow the blood flow and chilled bones might break. You don't need a spine where you want to follow me to. The heat boils the blood and the rage is too much. You are stripped of everything trying to cool the mood. Naked, you are exposed and even still sweating it out. You will boil alive. This is Hell. Cold is Hell. Heat is Hell. Lethargic luke warm lies. “I'm fine. Nothing. It happens.”
This seesaw mentality is going to throw us. There is an us. Thinking in terms of this new found identity, I just don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know anything but how you look when you are sleeping. All I have is a pair of apathetically angry eyes except when they are gazing at you through the darkness. The only light coming from the cracks in the doorway, the holes in the wall, the busted blinds that let in a tiny hint of the early morning light. Even with the shadows casted upon your profile, you're everything. You're all I have. Giving up on everything else... I've placed it all on you. I'm sorry. You're the only thing I have left to grasp, to hold, to let go of. Don't do this with me. You have your own problems, don't feel the need to buckle me in. You should be the one slamming the door and leaving me to suffocate exhausted. Don't get in. Don't start the car. Don't put it in drive. Don't hit the gas. I forgot to get gas. I didn't change the oil. I didn't even finish putting the engine back together. We aren't going anywhere because of me. We're stuck.
Do you really believe we can get where you want to go?
Not without regular maintenance. I didn't build this engine up well enough for a long trip. You have the knowledge of how to fix my mistakes. With nothing but a wrench, some take and a rag you can fix anything.
Take me to the basement.
It's raining from the ceiling.
No matter the chemicals, it's full of spiders; some poisonous and some not. Their webs empty, they wait for something to come along. They wait for something to trap, spin and destroy. No one's been down there for ages. Even a fresh coat of paint can't demolish the smell of cigarette smoke, cover the holes or fix the light seeping in from the cracks around the door frame. A damp cave of a basement. The sun can't get in. Artificial light is the only thing. Sometimes all the lights are on even when no one is home but two lonely cats. Sometimes to save energy and preserve the earth and everyone else, all the lights are out. It's dark and I can still see your face. You're beautiful. You're the reason any lights are on in the first place.
It's cold. Never enough blankets. Artificial communication. You could hear a pin drop among the low buzzing of the upstair appliances. Above head the people are walking around, never sitting down. There's never enough time to bundle up and maintain body heat. You keep the heart beating and the blood circulating.
Disorganized, scattered, built up trash, crumbs, cat hair, cigarette ash.
I only leave to please others. Even with the leaks pouring from upstairs, I'll just learn to swim. I build a raft until the water gets too high and I am pressed against the ceiling, wishing I had escaped earlier. Wishing I had gone to safer ground. Wishing I escaped from this basement. You can't swim either if I recall correctly. Don't try to come down to this basement.
The locks are busted.
The water is rising.
Get out now.
Back and forth. In between. Stuck. Swings.
He's the best thing. He's all I want. Sometimes. Be here with me. Go away. Talk to me. Leave me alone. All I know is to push people away. What's the point of dragging people down with me when the bottom is temporary? He wants to make the journey with me. He wants to make sure I get home safe. Home isn't anywhere specific, it isn't anything I want.
There aren't words. There might be but I don't know them. I might know things but I can't go there. That means it's real. I love you too much to let you spiral and fall with me. Just be there when I climb out. I'll escape... I always do.
I should've told you. I should've said something, anything.
It's just not fair. Not to me- to you.
Buckle up the booster seat.
This water is luke warm. Go back and forth between the col and hot. Cold will freeze it all out. Slow the blood flow and chilled bones might break. You don't need a spine where you want to follow me to. The heat boils the blood and the rage is too much. You are stripped of everything trying to cool the mood. Naked, you are exposed and even still sweating it out. You will boil alive. This is Hell. Cold is Hell. Heat is Hell. Lethargic luke warm lies. “I'm fine. Nothing. It happens.”
This seesaw mentality is going to throw us. There is an us. Thinking in terms of this new found identity, I just don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know anything but how you look when you are sleeping. All I have is a pair of apathetically angry eyes except when they are gazing at you through the darkness. The only light coming from the cracks in the doorway, the holes in the wall, the busted blinds that let in a tiny hint of the early morning light. Even with the shadows casted upon your profile, you're everything. You're all I have. Giving up on everything else... I've placed it all on you. I'm sorry. You're the only thing I have left to grasp, to hold, to let go of. Don't do this with me. You have your own problems, don't feel the need to buckle me in. You should be the one slamming the door and leaving me to suffocate exhausted. Don't get in. Don't start the car. Don't put it in drive. Don't hit the gas. I forgot to get gas. I didn't change the oil. I didn't even finish putting the engine back together. We aren't going anywhere because of me. We're stuck.
Do you really believe we can get where you want to go?
Not without regular maintenance. I didn't build this engine up well enough for a long trip. You have the knowledge of how to fix my mistakes. With nothing but a wrench, some take and a rag you can fix anything.
Take me to the basement.
It's raining from the ceiling.
No matter the chemicals, it's full of spiders; some poisonous and some not. Their webs empty, they wait for something to come along. They wait for something to trap, spin and destroy. No one's been down there for ages. Even a fresh coat of paint can't demolish the smell of cigarette smoke, cover the holes or fix the light seeping in from the cracks around the door frame. A damp cave of a basement. The sun can't get in. Artificial light is the only thing. Sometimes all the lights are on even when no one is home but two lonely cats. Sometimes to save energy and preserve the earth and everyone else, all the lights are out. It's dark and I can still see your face. You're beautiful. You're the reason any lights are on in the first place.
It's cold. Never enough blankets. Artificial communication. You could hear a pin drop among the low buzzing of the upstair appliances. Above head the people are walking around, never sitting down. There's never enough time to bundle up and maintain body heat. You keep the heart beating and the blood circulating.
Disorganized, scattered, built up trash, crumbs, cat hair, cigarette ash.
I only leave to please others. Even with the leaks pouring from upstairs, I'll just learn to swim. I build a raft until the water gets too high and I am pressed against the ceiling, wishing I had escaped earlier. Wishing I had gone to safer ground. Wishing I escaped from this basement. You can't swim either if I recall correctly. Don't try to come down to this basement.
The locks are busted.
The water is rising.
Get out now.