I will forever look for you in crowds
the sea of faces look all too familiar
they always look like you.

And in every dream I will ask where you are
Your name repeating off my tongue.
Why do they say you don't exist?

Loving Landon was like stepping into the inferno.
The fire warped my shell, my sheltering cage
and exposed my nerves in oranges and reds.

I knew it would destroy me from the very start.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
But in those moments, my god, I was alive.

I saw the way it lit your eyes.
Since childhood the thrill of
melting wax and hissing fuse
spurred such excitement for
being alive.

Whispering wishes to lightning
bugs, carrying light to the crystal
chandelier, lighting the miles ahead.
There the world stood still.

I saw the way it lit your eyes.
Since childhood the thrill of
melting wax and hissing fuse
spurred such excitement for
being alive.

The truth comes out when it all boils down to the fact that I had a lot more friends when I kept everything to myself.

He loved me much more from behind closed doors as I opened my veins in secret.

I am alone. I am lonely.

I am much too needy.

The bullet cracks your teeth, your tongue burns against
the hot metal, cooled down by detached touches and
mute denial. I have never felt such pain as when you painted
my cheeks with your fingertips. The blood still stains your hands.

I hear autumn calling me and I wish to go her way, however
though miles away your hands still hold my waist, asking me
to stay. My mother always said the devil was near.
I never expected him to have such blue eyes.

No amount of bourbon could erase the scars your
lips left behind. No matter how many words pile
on top of each other, your voice remains clear.
And even when I sunk into my old habit, he wasn’t you.

September has always been kind to me.
But this year seems so cold. The miles stretch
me thin. I feel myself drowning, they are saying I can only save myself.
But I still find myself here, drinking the sea.

I feel that I have lived much longer than I was supposed to. The seconds draw their claws on the chalkboard slowly, slowly, slowly... The razorblade separates the skin, the familiar inferno engulfing my body. The familiar deafening heart throb as I lay in the pool of my own emptiness, my regret. The shame of returning to the old habit. I did not count the pills, the tears did not allow sight. But a palmful later, I found myself on the ground, curled up with him. Potential has always been my greatest enemy. I have been running from him my whole life. I've been trying to drown out his screams. It was a good game.