is this working

i feel like running
i feel like flying
when you wake up in the morning everything kinda looks shitty

wow im part of 2% how special :\

x

my friends lvoed me when i stopped saying crazy things
they'd drop my hand take em far away and whisper to run away
you loved my eyes but they are just snesory organs, left for significance
its hard to tell you but when you don't smile its kinda painful
you cant sit and hold someone when they wont answer youre calls
its hurts because its a reflection of the way i think
we can sit and drink coffee and rasberry tea and watch the clock tick away the morning
times lioke this the pain doesnt make you feel sane
and your hands tremble and your shaking in the light
ill take your fingers and lace them through mine
but baby i'll stay awake through the night
jut to wake you up with the news you're still alive
and i'm making your coffee today

i may ask for a refund on predeterminism

the fact si. tis not that you were special. the idea of you is special. really you're just someone trying to be that idea. anyone can try to be an idea. in fact everyuone tries to be an idea. but i fell in love with that idea. i remember how when i got sadwe were past asking what it was about. we were past believing any lies. you cant fake the same lies that they tried last week. even when its dark and you feel weak. you cant sleep so you play music soft enough not too keep you awake, but strong enough to push away you're mind. who says this is perfection, everything is just an object made from atoms made from different numbers of electrons. whose to say something is perfect. whose to say we are insane. maybe you're insane. maybe it doesnt exist. maybe nothing really exists. maybe that would be perfection. i you cant reach the final idea in one direction why dont you turn around and go for the exact opposite. theres always soemthing to be sad about, if you're happy 90% of the time thereas always that 10% you cant have a eprcentage of 0.you said we are different because we notice the things that arent perfect, we notice mroe than beauty and love. well what if we can find beauty in the things that are so far gone. maybe that makes us better. ive learnt never to ask someone what is wrong with them. they either dont want to tell you, or you're just going to disapoint them. the msot comforting thought is that your're going to be okay. but then what. youre not going to be okay. the perfect people, they find some way to destruct, if you cant improve youve got to destruct. maybe we should ignore the drug adicts and the homeless and watch the young children growing up in stable homes, which enough money and go to school smiling. everyones supposed to learn from their mistakes, so why should we bother stopping them. if you dont remember what it was like to be in love, how do you know you were. if you dont remember what it was like to spend all night shaking, with your mind constantly replaying , maybe thats why we arent careful, maybe thats why we still believe in the concept of love. to love is for things to hrut that little bit more. and you thought sex was bad. if someoen makes you happy, they can make you sad, if someone can save you, well they are responsible for your life. do you really want to answer that phone call. do you really want to ring them in the first place. and after all this. after all the emotions, after all the pain, you're just one person out of 6 billion. how nice. how humbling, how insignificant. why lie. if you hurt10 people theres stll 6 billion more. we're over populated anyway. and at the end of all of this i dont mean it. i thought i would tell mel but mel and all my mother friends is in the county jail something that hurts you well someone else wont care. and if you cna get enough people to care its only going to last 60 more years. nothing is the end of the world. and if it is why does it matter

shit

i remember when id use your chest as a pillow
and youd suck my lips betwenn your teeth
as my eyelids would flicker closed
my friends lovers miles away
the nights theyd cry, stuck in our beds
the ropes of youth
sewn up in years flying by
distant light floods the hills
the song that first remind me of love
i could your vitals
your heartbeat slowing down
whisper when theres noone around

when i look out from my window i see the rain
shimmer in the pitch black sky
i feel it pour down on ym dangling feet but i
breath in and smell its scent
the orange glow of fragmented streetlight
cutting through the sleek ink road
covering the ex red bricks
it trackles down ym arms and i feel the same
two years before i looked down to the ground
i saw the same greyscale streets
i held onto the flickers of the luminated streets
speckels of hope craking through the dark
but now i see the sparkling stream
slididng through the stone path
it reflects the damage all throughout the world
but i cant help but want stop and smile
at the beauty of its light
and the hope and love it washed around
2 years ago i talked like oscar wilde
but now ive fouind something to make me laugh
i can still hear the sound of thunderstorms
keeping em awake when i lie down
my feeet touch the same roof that i
threw burnt paper on
it drifted off into the clouds
and toook my cloudded eyes
the smell of woodne trees makes me cry

the world is collapsing and falling into such a poisonous decay
but somehow you learn to capture it in such a picturesque way
the way the light hits the carefully crumbling buildings
and the fuzzy effect the smoke has on the graphittied parks frames
if your going to fall apart at least do it with some elegance
leave a lipstick smudge on your last cigarette
let wine glasses smash leaving pretty patterened stains
nothing can help doing repulsive things but you can cover them with beauty

the art of regret
you can knwo youve missed out and you should have done soemthing else but sometiems theres nothing you can do to change it
no i cant sleep
theres a house not too vfar away with someone in it.
theres a tree that once i saw you udner
theres a street we ran through once
theres a comment i wish i never made
theres soemthign i wish i never discovered
someone i wish was here
if you dont sleep and then two days later wake uip tired you knwo there;s a reason
sometimes the thigns you do get you so lost you cant trace thigns back
sometimes what keeps you awake only rots the things for tomorrow
if something makes sense at 2 am its msot certainly not in the morning
insomnia is a drug
memories are like ropes
how frank of me
x

.

its just that nostalgia and wondering if ive left too much behind
its the craving and the yearning that i feel too guilty to act upon
its the emotions that are torn between two times and minds
the choking breath of confusing and the tension of carrying the ting
to run away from everythuing that needs to be adressed
the tight strings slowly snaping , pulling tearing
shouting voices and troubled tones
the first time i saw an orange sunset over blue waters i closed my eyes
danger in the most pure moments.
hypocrasy abused from an elevated vantage point
fear and insecurity
but with a dash of someone else to think about
you spend years dreamign of someone to stick with you, to guide your through the things you cant work out for yourself. the times when you dont knwo why or what or how.
then you feel guilty for what it could do to someone and you sink back to the solitude
strick up the past fuckign addictions but make it more invisible than ever. so much more discreat, but you learn that making things known leaves you onto a muddy track with rotten leaves lacking the lustre of the autumn colours, pugent mouldy berries loosing their sweet taste, the smell of decaying animals lambs that never grew up, the sound of children crying lost in the forset. you fall deeper. it makes you think. will it ever be reverse.
so lets mix it up a little. numbing the sense cooling and tingling, numb the soul. blur your vision with such an incipid liquid makes you shudder as it burns, blur your soul.