a moment's timenis all you ever neednto choose fatennit's not a lie but a stronger truthnyou know it's concisenndon't give me that look of disgustnwhen you hold all of my distrustnnanother word from younand i don't know what i'll donnyour voice like screaming childrenni worry where your body has beennnit hasn't been with menif you were me you would seennbecause if you are truthful i don't believenthat you are who i wear on my sleevenni'm so tirednnthe blinding light can't even guide mennwhere am i?nnthe more dead the betternnlike a treendried and crackingnyou think i'm laughingni'm a wrecknnand you're there to seenbut there's not much underneathnnyou with me there wasnand this wasn't just the drugsnnyou joke and i chokenbecause being here beside younnis like beating children in publicnlike breaking banks with toothpicksnnbut when the concrete is freshnand i can step and not a soundnnyou'll houndnand somewhere somehowni'll be foundnnso spend another worthless momentntrying to tell me what you neednbut i still bleednni'm a person not a machinennso give me fifty seven more triesnand every time i use onenpart of me diesnnbecause being with you nownis like slaughtering a cownnartistic and slownbut there's nothing much to shownbut a fresh slice of fleshnthat we're eating like the restnnit's nothing more thannsomething that was there before we begannit's nothingnit's nothing more thannsomething that was there before we begannnand now i am tryingnto keep myself from dyingnnbecause death is so illusivenit's somewhat intrusivenon how we can vaguely benbeneath the silent treesnnwhen summer has hit us hardnand there's nothing in the yardnnbut vacant memoriesnclouded by bad judgementnnand if i could destroy what i had lostni would feel quite above itnnso give me another mixnthere's nothing that can fix the nicksnand cuts along my legsnfrom working hard all daynnbut you don't understand the truthneven when it's in front of younand now it's so plain to seenthat's why you can't be with mennpretend you're seventeennlike a movie star magazinennyour eyes lie and so do your thighsnabout who you want to be withnwhen you diennanother night aloneni'm turning off my phonenin fear that you would callnand wake me from my steady fallnof self decline and wastenthere is no need to hastennstumbling towards the doorni always knew you were a whorennsorry it's been fun now that you're gonenand there's no one that knows what i'm onnnbut maybe you could figure it outnif you took the time to hear my shoutsnnnthe warm blood feels fresh on my cold skinnni'd laugh in her facennthe grass is always greener bitchnnbeing alone gives a sense ofntranquility i haven't felt innwhat feels like a lifetimenncould this be a way for me to run fromnthe most painful personal experiencennso pure it intimidates me