Летящая жизнь.

I'll call that a day.

Am I coping,

Quite a question and I sit,

Wanna scream and cry, I knit.

What are feelings - wanna fuck you up,

Grab by hair, push to the wall,

You play, I'm not the doll. Shit, fuck...

How many times does this have to continue to end,

How many messages to the universe do I send - 

Where does the fire end,

Where do I, where do I stand.

Scream in your ears, how many times do I have to cope with others' fears -

I stand alone and rain is falling on my eyes

You feed me with the silence, I feed myself with lies -

And all this greater passion - is full of broken ties.

Fuck you piece of shit. I lit a cigarette.

Eat my crap disguise.

Where I pretend I'm angry. Pretend that I'm okay.

Beneath that - don't trust humans, but I had a heart.

And I'll call that a day.

.

Dysfunctional. And I open and close.

Stars align and I don't know those.

Pain. I crusaded for you. 

And for what? Is that strength about nothing,

Into an abyss of lost love.

Everything's a mess and I am above.

But it keeps dragging down,

I walk around town, I see flowers, people smiling and sun.

But what to do when in thoughts all I want to do is to pull out a gun.

Instead of my embraces, they go nowhere.

I go see places and think of you.

Obsessive. Disgusted of self. I'm on that same shit. On that same shelf.

Body aches, I'm gone. The fuck have I done?

In my thoughts I cut words, cut people off.

I can't stand the blur that I have with relations,

Can't stand fuckin nothing, time tickin, friends together stickin.

And I'm here. Where the fuck do I go?

Useless power plays I show,

And as much as I'd like to stay - 

My head's playing Requiem, I'm on my way...

On the sofa I lay and I cry.

Maybe the thoughts of life&death, maybe I thrive.

But what's with that, heck at least I'm alive.

Man... such a storm in myself, it's two fourty five.

And I'm out to breathe, but I want to beat, hell...

If only soft arms could hold me, but - oh no, I dwell.

And I cannot help but to enter this nocturnal cell.

Masks.

I hope you take it off,

In morning dust, in sunset red,

Before you leave and go to bed,

I hope you take it off and look

With every word out of that book -

And scratch out that thread, that page, dissection,

Do I suffer to blind affection...

We all take them off and look in the mirror to see

That there's something incredibly monstrous to be.

The masks of perfection.

I stomp the appeal and cut the correction.

In beautiful masks lies our ugliest infection.

You know, it hurts

Fuck you, with words

The fuck are you doing

Putting words in my mouth

If you wanted me to be away -

Then should have said so,

Not wasting my day

And my heart

Decay.

Tunnel.

 I walk out

And it pulls me back.

I walk out

And it pulls me back.

The pain within comes out

Like black fluid fills my veins

Confusing feelings, destroying gains.

Thoughts go back to negatives.

I fear what ifs, everything is like a wall,

Huge border around me, suffocating crowds in mall.

I'm on my knees and I can't breathe.

And you won't help me, nothing will.

I'm ruled and I'll be killed -

By my own thought. I'm still -

Like waters in the sea -

Deep down the black depths feed on me

Of my own sharks. Relational ptsd.

I want to paint my room fucking red.

I hate everything that does with feelings,

I hate everything that makes me cry.

I hate everything that gives me hope and reason,

And everything that makes me wanna die.

I hate all these things I'm feeling - 

And those that I don't understand.

For when I was stupidly thinking,

About clueless fucking you,

Instead of going to bed.

I want to paint my room fucking red.