|04-15-2008, 10:32 PM||#1 (permalink)|
Join Date: Apr 2008
squeeze that solo out of me.
We're all living with a ghost.
Him with her - in the room she died in.
You with them - breathing their last in your arms.
In your arms.
Her with I.
Reading bedtime stories to calm me.
"Smells like" ****ing "teen spirit" in here,
he says a few more days.
Who am I in love with anymore?
Myself? Or the idea?
Distortion confuses me, it's all I can hear.
I can't see straight.
The water hits me like icicles. I feel pierced all over.
My skin is bleeding.
All over your shirt.
All over your life.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It just happens.