eektragic

You pull over on the side of the highway, This could be the moment where you cry because of the rock and the hard place because your life is neither black nor white and to see color means you're happy and that's not the right feeling either. Your breath is thick and you're vaguely aware that you're choking on your choices, But none of that matters here in this moment where life is slipping past you because time goes on and it has no interest in waiting. You cannot pick him nor her or them No matter what you decide They hurt and you hurt and she hurts and he hurts Because she can't stand him and he can't be with her and their hearts

Today I bit off more than I could chew, in this game associated with loving you. I swallowed us whole and tried to break it down. The air is ripe and days are numbered. You've clogged up my fingertips, made home in my stomach. I can't write you out. Just a sec. I almost forgot, 'bout when you explained she was the tick to your tock. How could I blame you? The words, how they flowed so easily then. Oh god, I hope you don't take offense.

I don't know if solitude is a good or bad thing, but I do know as I stare at this light, that you aren't coming to save me.

I know you have my heart, (believe me, I do) but his lips were new and strange and virtually painless.

I am a different person for every man that I've ever loved (or lusted after). It divides my life into chapters that only I know about. Perhaps people cannot see the difference, for I don't believe my outward appearance and personality change to such a severe degree when I am viewed by the outside world. I feel it inside, however. Like lightning in a cloudless, silent sky it seeps into my soul, only showing quick glimpses of the storm brewing underneath. Those who know me best see these brief flashes of danger and light, but even then they decide against recognizing the reality of what they've seen. My friends easily retreat with my quick smil

haven't been. wouldn't be. too many insecurities. lack of smarts, shot in the dark. frankenstein face a literal waste of air we breathe. I hate and cry and coke and seethe. I'm sorry for what I haven't been, wouldn't be.

I've got a moral disorder. (or perhaps a dilemma). Take what's mine give it to someone better. I've got a haunting sense of I-don't-give-a-fuck (or perhaps I just can't give enough).

head rush. stop breathing. start bleeding. don't judge. i'm just trying to get out.

Delicate fingers and salt of the sea I continuously let you screw with me. C'est la fucking vie.

Not looking for coins, but screaming for change; my road map is broken and we're losing our way. Condolences spewing from the mouths of my friends but pity has no worth when it won't fix the end. A mile a minute turned into a mile a year; I'm not sorry to say I couldn't, wouldn't make it here. Roads of bile and streets of sin, taunt me with my life and vodka stained grin. Disgust and departure and romance and rapture. You couldn't have made me leave any faster.