i don't like you anymore
something happened in my head
instead of being with you
i'd prefer being dead
am i scared? am i sore?
or something in that zone?
instead of boning with you
i'd rather rot to bones
i don't like you anymore
and i realize i'm right
instead of lighting fires
i'd prefer to see the light
it's an AM in the morning
i'm feeling kinda sad
my rhymes are always boring
stupid dumb and bad
i want to take a break from life
do nothing for a year
rake the leaves and rake my strife
and look like a real queer
don't know where i'm going
but i know my future's cold
down the river, time is flowing
and i'm panning for some gold
there's a gap really far
in my consciousness
and i'm not sure if my hands are
cleaning or making mess
it's an AM in the morning
i'm feeling kinda sad
my songs are always boring
stupid dumb and bad
it's an AM in the morning
but please don't worry much
hidden under flooring
body bags and such
it's an AM in the morning
i'm feeling kinda mad
the boys i am adoring
are crying like they're fags
your tie, your pants,
are ridiculous
but still somehow attractive
your friends, your girls
are promiscuous
but still i smile and wave
there's nothing different about this crush:
this teasing, insulting, staring.
are you attracted?
are you disgusted?
are you both?
you want a goth girlfriend
i almost fit those labels
was that a flirt?
i don't know.
i'm clueless because i think
i'm worthless.
i'm worthless because i think
i'm ugly.
i'm ugly becuase i think
i'm clueless
i'll never risk it ever again
i'll just suck it up and wait
if he's interested he'll give me:
snapchat. digits. whatever.
i left homecoming early all four years here.
who are you and
why'd you take my heart
so quickly.
you took me fast
i got whiplash
i'm feeling kinda sickly
when tomorrow rolls around
and i see you on the floor
you're stumbled, embarrassed
i pray all the prying eyes stop judging,
but in the process,
i fell, too
baby A,
baby, ay
i love the concept of you
but your friend broke
my best friend's heart
i'm scared you'll break mine too.
baby A,
maybe, say
let's hang out sometime
but your blue eyes
are blue as his
it's way too out of line.
baby A,
eighty days
i will turn eighteen
but maturity
matures past me
and the solution is
what the solution does:
it's saline and it cleans.
maybe when i wake up
i'll be the guy i want to be:
tall...
handsome...
athletic...
blonde...
but most likely when i wake up
in the mirror i will see:
short...
ugly...
fat...
dark...
unacceptably me.
why didn't i die that day? what purpose did it serve?
going over eighty, then a sudden swerve
got a bad concussion, guess i struck a nerve
punched myself in the face, guess i struck a nerd
sverige
born today
die again tomorrow
rise back up
from the ash
burn up all my sorrow
blue mystic
it's intrinsic
that you understand
that flowers do not
just appear
they grew up from the land
i want to do so many things to you.
i want to touch you, run my hands against you,
pull your hair, make you moan
but i will never make love to you
my fingers laced with yours,
or your fingers tight on my neck
whatever you prefer—
it will never be love.
pushed against the wall
teeth and tongue
“you are nothing to me,”
i say, and i drag my palms
across your milk white thighs
“then why are you so into this?”
you say, clawing me ever closer,
my breasts pressed against you,
my weight crushing.
i bite your tongue, push you over,
and for the first time in this
hate/hate relationship,
i have complete control.
i know i will grow old and weak
eventually, eventually
i will die of mediocrity
eventually, eventually
i'll get over my grandeur
eventually, eventually
then i'll stop wanting more
eventually, eventually
my art will just die with me
eventually, eventually
dissolved into the salty sea
eventually, eventually
i am mediocrity
i am mediocrity
i am mediocrity
back and forth back and forth—
riding the bathtub wall
riding the rocking chair
back and forth
a smile, a laugh, a flirt:
i'm falling down again
the way my heart goes—
back and forth back and forth.
i see only the scleras
all white and bloodshot
i can't bear to look at blue eyes anymore
they give me hypothermia, frostbite,
and back stabbing pains
back and forth back and forth
he comes to the table, offering nothing but himself
and his laugh
blue eyes,
white guys,
time flies
REMEMBER YOUR PLACE IN THIS WORLD.
HE WAS NOT BLUSHING. HIS SKIN IS JUST TRANSLUCENT.
YOU ARE NOT CRUSHING. YOUR SOUL IS JUST LONELY.
REMEMBER YOUR PROMISE TO YOURSELF. REMEMBER HOW HURT YOU WERE.
YOUR PERFECT PARTNER DOES NOT EXIST HERE. YOUR STANDARDS ARE YOURSELF. YOU NEED TO LOVE YOURSELF. REMEMBER HOW HURT YOU WERE.
HE IS NOWHERE NEAR YOU.