I’m just a kid
who always seems to be struggling;
who seems to slip
into the quiet places
that no one can notice
but they know they can’t stand it,
like slow music at the very edge
of a ballroom.
it’s my life
and it’s what i seem to do best
i don’t want to.
rejection is my native language,
mixed with a little pacific disappointment
lined with lies of all colors.
i’m the creak in the door-
when you’re trying to sneak out at night,
the lights you don’t want to come on,
the cold water in the shower,
i’m the splinter in your hand,
the answering machine you hear
at 3 in the morning
when you’re too fucked up to move.
i think i am hollow,
because when i try to spill my guts
you look at me with eyes as empty as
a painted mannequin
in a department store.
i’m living on the north and south pole;
two different places but freezing
to death all the same
like it’s what i was made for.
i’m the scratchy cd
that you used to love but now i don’t work,
i’m a rogue hail storm
the break up call
the make up sex you know is a mistake.
i’m your first love
the one that walked out the door
cause you didn’t know what you wanted.
i’m the clock when you’re late
i’m everything you hate
especially the seconds when all you wanna do is slow down
but you can’t
because the funny thing is…
i’m still your everything.