I missed you
As I laid down alone
In a bed not a throne
Watching the phone
I could smell you
On the sheets
Remember a heart beat
Close my eyes and scream
I missed you...
...until you came home.
I missed you,
till you came back to lack
what I thought I could stand.
i missed you,
until you existed
in daylight
in night time
In my time.
If I could wash myself
Of myself,
I would.
This terrible face
with lips that lie.
Eyes that hide...
..the fact that your love,
will die.
I wash myself,
of you instead.
Sometimes I just don't feel right.
I am overcome with all things nonsense
In the sense that there is any sense to be had.
And it happens just like that
Just like someone strolled up
And punched me in the heart...
Smashed my lungs in.
I am the breath leaving my body,
Ever so slowly
The pressure is rising
I can feel it gathering in my eyes.
Staring at the ceiling
Trying to dry it out.
Turning to the floor
Trying to ignore myself.
Looking at the door
Picturing walking out
Looking,
Anywhere
Absolutely anywhere,
But in your direction.
How can I feel so incredibly happy,
Yet want to die
All in the same thirty sec
Time to Sing... again. by screamwhatyouare, literature
Literature
Time to Sing... again.
I can't get my point across,
If I don't even know the point
that I am trying to make.
Everything feels so forced
these days...
And I take,
And I take,
And I fucking take.
And leave you
with your place
In disrepair
And unfair decision.
The incision
Much worse
Than the verse
I have written.
Why does everything
That I ever sing
Always end
with
Sorry?
These weeks have made me weary
I can't quite see things clearly.
I know it's my own fault
And I know exactly who I've faulted.
More than anyone else,
I've done myself in.
I've run to the end of this burning road.
To hell I go
to hell I go.
Most of the time I want to tear myself apart to see what's really on the inside.
Despite the grossness of it all and the nastiness of choice.
The bleeding thoughts and the breaking heart.
The smashed mind and the gnashing teeth.
The beautiful veins filled with wine and the lungs that thrive on tobacco.
Seems as though I already know what's there .
But I really don't.
All of that is on the outside .
I still need the inside.
Turn me around
Inside out
Upside down
Shake me about
My earth needs to quake
My words need to break
My fingers need to feel
My eyes want what's real
Don't tell me
You love me
Just because
You k
I missed you
As I laid down alone
In a bed not a throne
Watching the phone
I could smell you
On the sheets
Remember a heart beat
Close my eyes and scream
I missed you...
...until you came home.
I missed you,
till you came back to lack
what I thought I could stand.
i missed you,
until you existed
in daylight
in night time
In my time.
If I could wash myself
Of myself,
I would.
This terrible face
with lips that lie.
Eyes that hide...
..the fact that your love,
will die.
I wash myself,
of you instead.
Sometimes I just don't feel right.
I am overcome with all things nonsense
In the sense that there is any sense to be had.
And it happens just like that
Just like someone strolled up
And punched me in the heart...
Smashed my lungs in.
I am the breath leaving my body,
Ever so slowly
The pressure is rising
I can feel it gathering in my eyes.
Staring at the ceiling
Trying to dry it out.
Turning to the floor
Trying to ignore myself.
Looking at the door
Picturing walking out
Looking,
Anywhere
Absolutely anywhere,
But in your direction.
How can I feel so incredibly happy,
Yet want to die
All in the same thirty sec
Time to Sing... again. by screamwhatyouare, literature
Literature
Time to Sing... again.
I can't get my point across,
If I don't even know the point
that I am trying to make.
Everything feels so forced
these days...
And I take,
And I take,
And I fucking take.
And leave you
with your place
In disrepair
And unfair decision.
The incision
Much worse
Than the verse
I have written.
Why does everything
That I ever sing
Always end
with
Sorry?
These weeks have made me weary
I can't quite see things clearly.
I know it's my own fault
And I know exactly who I've faulted.
More than anyone else,
I've done myself in.
I've run to the end of this burning road.
To hell I go
to hell I go.
Most of the time I want to tear myself apart to see what's really on the inside.
Despite the grossness of it all and the nastiness of choice.
The bleeding thoughts and the breaking heart.
The smashed mind and the gnashing teeth.
The beautiful veins filled with wine and the lungs that thrive on tobacco.
Seems as though I already know what's there .
But I really don't.
All of that is on the outside .
I still need the inside.
Turn me around
Inside out
Upside down
Shake me about
My earth needs to quake
My words need to break
My fingers need to feel
My eyes want what's real
Don't tell me
You love me
Just because
You k