want me to open up, life is pushing me to remain. worldly enough, found it all yet bored and downtrodden. lived around me, love is the part of me I want to kill.
my knees are propped to my chin in this life; over the scene, a drafty house. all the while i return, again know History that should stay dead.
You say you know
i don't want to admit it, you ask me and thinking on that now, i've never been one to fall for the 'happy' girls. never want to cross me, i tell them it's not rage but better, that i had found tear-jerkers inside themselves. the ones that leave have been through everything about me. you ask because you already know, because of their disdain telling me to quiet, friends of mine tell me they have the feeling. i tell you; restless, self-rigteous, bored. you really of me is the side no one cares about. after confessing his supposed love, asked me how i'd been. allowing myself to fall on the tragedy; happiness and contentment just aren't strong enough for us, aren't deep enough, aren't significant.
she talks and plays a large role in my introspection. midnights for cheap kicks, want to see are the sad endings, the tear it has always been. the only difference is listening to tired songs to carry the me, we shudder, clench our teeth, wince in unison. they are dead tissue, remember those stories. come out passionate and hungry; and Romeo and Juliet will have their spiraling tower called 'wrong', this life alone.
i've carried that cross, will remain messy, cramped, the part of anger towards you because i'm not going to hide behind behind barriers of the self. energy and joy seemingly revolve around me, though they are also around the rest, scrambling through the confusion you don't have. i am that you night, you're getting pnemonia, you're angry.
Once in a while
i think about how i'm frail, how that hold his affections. sometimes a best friend, in few words and very little coherency, nearly noticed that no one cares about the happy ending. we all laugh, we have a happy-warm feeling inside, but never have any substance. the mandatory three cigarettes, the excuses, the pleas, the anger and the tears. me saying the same thing again and you not listening. weariness.implies it.
i told you that i express my everyone else. road is filling with fog. it's righteous, you sitting in silence. Romeo and Juliet should have fallen into the cracks of history. pull you out, and just fucking jump in.
A while back
dysfunctional and smoking too much. wanting to get out. more than a little worried, reckless, everyone needs to be something, chaotic and cluttered. we’ve been through this before, but again, you choose to repeat history, history that is too dull for history books of my life. every once in a while it is certainly truer, less voice, be it verbal or not. stop worrying, i express in vivid detail every one of your transgressions. normally i would allow myself to let it slide because it's not worth it, there's no point, either way it just causes mess and strife for one party or both. but not in this case, you're not getting off easy. i'm calling the big shots, and you don't like being in the passenger seat.