take a hit and hold it in
**** reality
let the bitter smoke fill that hole in your chest
til' nothing means anything
and you can laugh at yourself again

i remember my wandering days

when my only love were those sick streets and empty sweets
train tracks and broken bottles, running til your body aches
a place where time meant nothing and everything existed
but only i could see it

those days were before you ever knew me
days when i dyed my hair and dried flowers
days when i might have believed in magic
days when it was just me and the night sky
days when i looked down from the edge of the bridge
feeling free and empty and useless and fine with it

is it me or him?
who would you stand beside
when the world ends?

am i still the one you write about
am i still "the one"
or have you found another soul
are we truly done?

is it me or him that you want to hold?
whose heart do you call home?
because the nasty voice in my skull
thinks its not my own.

the colors and motion and *******
the apathy and edge and aloofness

useless brushstrokes
pointless scratches on paper

what is an artist without his ego?

**** emotions and love and ****.
it's all filler.

i still talk to her
because most of the time
she's the only person that seems to want to talk

i fill time with her
fill the dark with her compliments
fill my ego mostly

i hate it
being such an *******
and having to go so low
to make myself not feel like ****

can someone please tell me
why everything has to hurt?
can you tell me why
i can't just be happy?