Faded floral wallpaper,
Carpet in blood red.
And though I've got a heavy heart,
My hands support my head.
Your eyes, just like diamonds.
And your gaze, it stops me dead.
The words just fall right out my mouth,
I don't know what I said.

I think I'm going crazy,
For you,
For you.

Scuffed black plastic furniture,
Walls painted fresh white.
I know I shouldn't kiss you,
But I think that I might try.
Thoughts flutter around my head,
A kind of constant fright.
I hope that you won't find this out,
You won't turn on the light.

I think I'm going crazy,
For you,
For you.

Before I will shut my eyes,
There's one thing that comes first.
I pray that I can just go back,
To put it in reverse.
You know, she seems alright,
And I guess I shouldn't hate her,
But she's the freshly painted wall,
And I'm the faded paper.

The story I've been telling is becoming less close to the chest.
Curious nature is that of a private man openly speaking tragedy.
Delivered with an uncomfortable smirk, because humility is foreign.
At this time, respectively.

It began with short sentences. Small worked because it was never enough to give insight into
the whole picture. Of course there was source material. Coincidences occasionally, but my sources were
always kept hidden. My skeletons, some would say.

Then the sentences became longer, if not, the paragraphs would.
Every now and then a hand cramp would delay the process, but
the mind kept going. What else did it have to do, but think?

But back to misplacing a humble way.
As soon as you state that you are,
you have become a contradiction,
a liar,
a cheat,
a thief,
the **** of the Earth.

But what do I know?

I'm only trying to be humble.

and I count the patterns in the paint
and the tiles on the ceiling
and the freckles on your face
and the scars on my wrists
and the threads in the sheets
all in the midst of
a cough syrup haze
-

A chill cuts me to the bone
I shiver before the pale, cold sanctuary.
I rid myself of every feeling of guilt, inadequacy, and almost the sadness.
Ribbons of all shades around my wrists masked by those of red
Secrets that have become all too easy to keep
Scarred knuckles and beads of sweat
A sense of control always wavering on the edge
I fight this war alone.

I love you.
I hate you.
Leave.
Please don't go.
I am black.
I am white.
I am unbearable hunger
And excruciating fullness.
I am good and evil.
And in my mind, so are you.
Forever one or the other.
I walk the fence between happiness and self hatred.
Between life and death.
I love you.
I hate you.
Leave.
Please don't go.

The night

is for discovering by feel
instead of sight

I would say I've lost my touch but that implies that I had a touch.
I would say everything I now touch turns to rust but that would imply that it once turned to gold.
I would say I'm going crazy but that would imply that I was once sane.
I would say I still love you but that would imply that I once loved you.
I would say I wish I had a cigarette but I wish I had a cigarette.

I don't understand.
I don't understand.
I don't.

Why am I here?
Why am I typing?
Is it to solicit a response?
Is it a desperate plea?

I am falling and I will never be caught.
Not by ground, not by mitt, not by death.


I'm getting bad again.
I'm breaking bad.
I'm breaking ties.

Maybe a change would be nice.
Maybe I can cut all of my ties and form a new life.
It almost sounds appealing.
But *******, I've loved my friends for too long to cut them out.
But I've hated myself for longer.