We Could Be Perfect

This is where I end
And where my subconsicous begins...
As I fake it through each day
I teach myself to discern between
The truths and the lying eyes...

One Last Time

Here I go again
Waking up and painting my face
That I hide anyway with my hair...
I Can't begin to let you know just what i'm feeling

Just Think Happy Thoughts

What have I to hide, anymore?
I realize what an open book I am
Just... I write in the subliminal.
In psychology, we learned that most people don't pick up on such.
Just another proof that humanity is fucking stupid.

I Think I'll Blow My Brains Against the Ceiling

Morbid thoughts make me laugh
And the sleep of death makes me smile
People make me forget myself
But remind me of him
Always...

And as the Fragments of My Skull Begin to Fall

Never messages in my inbox
Never the one to IM first
Never the one calling
Never another sign of affection
However digital...
I suppose you don't understand.

Falls On Your Tongue Like Pixie Dust

I work to come home.
Where I'd rather be.
Among the familiar.
I'm alone and empty here
Emotionally... physically..
No one could hold me the way he does...
No one in this world could compare to him.

In This Alone

leave |me| alone

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