heartspokenlove


	quick-witted and short-tempered.
	i wish i could look down the road paved for me, jump in an airplane and see what i'm setting myself up for. role the dice, odds or evens, (i never get sevens) losing all my chips in the game of Life. i live in a woken nightmare. seeing things that would normally wake me up sweating. but i can't wake up from this. i'm stuffing my friends on a shelf when the newer versions come in. it kills me when i see you and i don't have the same enthusiasm i used to. and i know your the exact same way. we can't fake this anymore. fake our whatever is going on between us. fake our everything relating us to each other. the few glances and smiles are like the needle in my arm hooking me to the I.V. filled with the courage i need to talk this out with you. but i left and never looked back. the hospital bed was empty before the I.V. was. i'm sorry. i truly am. but we both aren't trying to make this any better. "just forget me, it's that simple." Current Music: Taking Back Sunday- Your Own Disaster


	ashes, ashes; we all fall down.
	I'm a lone used cliche. Plug in the headphones and turn up the volume (because i'm never listening to you again) The actors start to stutter. The set is falling apart. Curtains are closing, bows are being taken to an empty room. The sun rays from the window are cut by the shades. Make note, misery loves company. I'm losing my old friends. Shipping them off in boxes marked for the incinerator. Pulling together new groups of friends, clashing with every clique. Last Call. Cut off all my ties to the outside world til I'm hanging off of one thing, (Your every word) Push me over a cliff and watch me dangle by what's slipping out your mouth. (Keep the scissors and foul-mouthed words away) Let me pull myself up and start again. I set my life in the hands of others. Twisting and shaping to how they want me to be. My pen is my expressor, like finger-painting in kindergarten. The teacher never told me what i should draw. (they were all scribbles anyways) plagiarizing shakespeare minus the romeo. (plus more drama) My head kills like a hangover. (too bad it's 5 in the afternoon) Pen takes paper, paper covers moods. Relieved would be an understatement. The jitters and shakes are what's making my fingers move. I need to learn. Too bad all the teachers willing to teach are on strike. Current Music: Fall Out Boy- G.I.N.A.S.F.S.