all of the good washcloths are gone
and i'm breaking bread
with a candle burning at both ends
and whether or not i wear mascara today
isn't going to change anything, anyways.
three words: nauseous, anxious, depressed
three more: fuck my life
i guess there's only so long
you can stretch out along
a sedately flowing stream
and believe in a dream.
(no hopes and nightmares)
how could you possibly, possibly think
you could make me not care?
i want to tell you so much, still
but you wouldn't hear it
or pretend not to so instead
i'm going to wait for the day when i can eat,
not cry, and it is a mean feat.
and maybe by then i can apologize with
a straight face and you will believe me enough
to believe in me again.
1 comment:
i guess i have to say this is one of the best things you've ever written, even though it seems like it's not the right thing to say because it's so very very sad and also because a lot of things you write, including both the songs i heard today, are some of the best things you've ever written. thank God for cleverness and riddles and written language. who even knows where we'd be without it.
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