this will keep going forever, even though you are dead.
these were your last words, and these will be your first: it's the past. dum doo bee wahhhhh, you hear. but listen up here. listen up here, okay? i'm about to jump and you need to know why.
it's the present. no one cares. they've all turned around their faces and their lives. upstanding.
this is really the attack this is really it, sometimes you just have to run sometimes you just run. you're sad that you have to leave them but it's all it's all for the best.
how can you tell yourself it's all for the best when this is all just the worst? sometimes i miss being in between sheets. skin. hair. sweat and love mixed and mixed. love and sweat mixed and mixed. everything in the world in between sheets. these are old thoughts.
old thoughts from about a year ago, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. i am writing this to make you angry. you are no longer anyone in specific. "this is my new year's resolution," speeding down the highway, covering about, oh, 87 miles or so each hour. "good lovin'" is on the radio and you are sneezing blood, and where has your life gone?
sex happens in cars. cars sometimes break down. love sometimes breaks down. sex is just sex i guess.
math twists itself through my head and out my ears. knowledge that most people are wrong, including myself especially, is very comforting.
diagnosis. serious. blood drips from your eyelash to the ground and breaks apart into smaller blood. when that smaller blood hits the ground, it breaks into even smaller blood. and this will keep going forever.
it's the present. no one cares. they've all turned around their faces and their lives. upstanding.
this is really the attack this is really it, sometimes you just have to run sometimes you just run. you're sad that you have to leave them but it's all it's all for the best.
how can you tell yourself it's all for the best when this is all just the worst? sometimes i miss being in between sheets. skin. hair. sweat and love mixed and mixed. love and sweat mixed and mixed. everything in the world in between sheets. these are old thoughts.
old thoughts from about a year ago, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. i am writing this to make you angry. you are no longer anyone in specific. "this is my new year's resolution," speeding down the highway, covering about, oh, 87 miles or so each hour. "good lovin'" is on the radio and you are sneezing blood, and where has your life gone?
sex happens in cars. cars sometimes break down. love sometimes breaks down. sex is just sex i guess.
math twists itself through my head and out my ears. knowledge that most people are wrong, including myself especially, is very comforting.
diagnosis. serious. blood drips from your eyelash to the ground and breaks apart into smaller blood. when that smaller blood hits the ground, it breaks into even smaller blood. and this will keep going forever.