about a girl

we just can't ever quite work this out.
i smash mirrors, and shout, and fight with myself -
running in circles never helps.
your mind is a maze, just waiting to be mapped.
these bruises on my hands are just waiting to be noticed.
but you'll never see this.

you'll never want to.

gold rings mark the start of everything we'd burn down cities to say.
i'm a skeleton key. or just an experiment in a laboratory.
so, what did this ever mean?
sometimes you've got to breathe deeply, and let your heart be opened -
but mostly you've got to realise that if you were invisible no one would notice.

i'm chasing canary's in my head.

turn up the silence

life's made up of things your heart is breaking to say, and your head is aching to stop coming out.
lips bruise almost gently.
instead, they spill out into lyrics or lies, falling across a page in ink or blood or whatever we could find.
you have to let people in to see if they're really worth trusting -
i tried it and was left teary-eyed and disappointed.
is this all we have? is this all we'll ever have?

witches hold futures in their hands.
i throw diamonds and glass into the sea -
worthless but pretty.
sums up everything i kill myself to be.

i'm tired of falling.

the inevitable

it's been a while.
i'm mostly staring to mirrors and seeing strangers, right now.
watching my life through other people's eyes on television. it's strange how things work out like fairytales when no one is really living them.

i think i've lost the plot, or maybe i never found the story.
let's just wait for the finale.

the nature of the regime

it's strange, and then, not so strange.
we're all at our happiest when we're down.
he's praying for a problem -
just so he can say he's got them.
the best stories are the ones with the most tragic endings.
disney never quite got it right.

fuckedup&lookingup

generally

i see the world in papercuts and slow motion.
not a pretty girl. just a sad song that we can never quite remember all the words to.
a face you can't quite recall.
the name you think you might have once heard.
i try and catch the clock at 11:11, just to pray to a god i don't believe in to save this/me/the world.
television shows the minds of our generation destroyed by madness and too many insurance commercials.
maybe they're two of the same.

i guess all i wanted to say today was thank you.
for holding my hand too tight.
for ensuring i always watch my back.
for being the blood under my fingernails.

WE are what we've been waiting for.

still here.

a working class hero is something to be

your mouth is a cannon, set to fire in my direction.
this is all just practice for you.
strange. this bitch is used to be beaten down -
words go past the line. you know how to shake me up.

i only ever cry over the man i lost -
not the words the one who is left throws into my chest.
this fire is too hot to touch without getting burnt.
they all learn.
eventually.

i hate knock, knock jokes

i'm sorry, you're a long way from home.
that candle will only take you so far -
it's burning at both ends, and your time is almost up.

knock, knock.
"who's there?"
"fate."