I m looking for the upsides to these panic-attack nights. where I m staying in eating take-out food by TV light. I m trying to play the b-side to this awkward life of mine.
You're just trying to read but I'm always standing in your light.. You're just trying to sleep but I always wake you up to apologize.. I'm sorry I don't laugh at the right times..
You climb six lonely sets of stairs to your apartment after another graveyard shift in the cold dull light of morning.. You walked in just in time to catch her as she's leaving but the schedules and the conflicts kept the roof over our heads..
I washed chain grease and blood off of my hands. In the ocean, I let salt water rinse the dirt away. I stood calm in a room I hadn't been in. In a decade, I felt dizzy, used to stand here every day.
We sat quiet on the hill. Out just north of Wings Field. Waiting on the runway lights. We were wrapped in winter coats. And I said I'd drive you home.
Like a burning monk. My light flared out in the dark. You're my constant call to arms. Took the blindfold off. They'd left chalk outlines where the future was.
Cigarette smoke dances back in the window. And I can see the haze on its own light. I'm conjuring ghosts on a forty hour ride home. And they keep asking me what I'm doing with my life.
I bought flowers from a drifter. Cut my hand on a thorn. Straight across the fate line. I'm no palm reader but. I doubt that's the sign I was looking for.
Two miles from the hotel, eight hundred from home*. We're forced to call on all we know. But all we know's a joke. The van just started shaking, coughing out black smoke.
Digging up the bones of the failures I've buried. I'm pulling out my white flags in various stages. The sun bleached in gray. Gonna sew them all together.
I'm not sad anymore, I'm just tired of this place.. The weight of the world be okay if it would pick a shoulder to lean on. So I could stand up straight..
I hate your bad tattoos and your second-hand stories. Those anecdotes that grew old last month. I hate the way you move when you're drunk and try dancing.
Madelyn, I share your hate for this world we're in but it makes me a better man.. It's an excuse that you make. Madelyn, I know you want to let the bottles in..
It's goddamn freezing in this city. There's no heat in my room. It's like it never stops raining. And I'm soaked through. My life's become this tightrope act.
They turned on the fountain today at Logan Circle,. I felt something in me change,. I was thinking about how we all feel,. But the world's not such a shitty place,.
Well I cut open my palm and held it out to you. You do the same with your own army surplus blade. My blood's never as warm as I expect it. You grab my hand adorned in wildflower warpaint.
Clear the apartment. I plan on collapsing and I could have sworn I heard a car door slam. I'm stuck at the corner of grinding teeth and stomach acid. All alone under a soft rain and streetlamp.
So you found me on the floor,. I'm split open at the seams,. The lights of Birmingham are wet. and blur in front of me,. Today we woke up at 1,. but it gets dark here at 3,.
Tossed around like sea glass. And you rounded out my edges. I'll feel better when the headaches go away. I've got a scar across my forehead. Turning purple in the cold.
I woke up today and put all my shit in boxes,. It's 8am so I'm glad I wasn't out late,. I woke up today,. I guess it's good I hadn't finished unpacking all of this in the first place,.