iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
I yelled goodbye to everyone and
told them I'd see them on Thursday.
I trampled my already frozen feet
through more snow
to my car
where I changed the CD
before I past the bar
and decided not to go in.
Instead, I drove to the convience store
where I found myself standing in line
with a mexican to my right
trying to count his money.
The smell of his cologne is over powering.
It's just about killing me.
The six packs went up a dime.
Driving in my car
I hear a song
that brings tears to my eyes.
I won't lie.
Back then, at least I had a purpose-
to prove myself, to prove a point.
Everything now is just so boring.
So s l o w
I feel as though,
I could fall off the face of the planet
and no one would even notice.
-or care.
And maybe I don't either anymore.
I start to clean the kitchen
and I rearrange the empty space
left open on the counter.
because I love the way everything
seems brand new-
with the slightest move.
The second to the last beer
was cracked open
and I didn't even notice
the klonopins kicking in
because the hits from the bowl
didn't let it sneak in
too quickly.
As I turn my head away
from the clock on the stove
my eye caught
my giraff slippers.
And they made me remember-
they were the perfect gift
from my mother
because no one else would have thought
I would have loved them so much.
I want to get back on a plane
and fly 3000 miles away
and tell my mother that I was sorry
my father wanted to kill her.
But,
I have to stop apologizing for him.
And my second mother...
the one who raised me
is unhappy with herself
and so is her husband,
that's probably why he's leaving.
It makes me hate all
those fucking bastards.
-every fucking one that made
me crack a little bit
or beat the fuck out of my mother
or cheated on my other
or made my sister more fucked up
than she already is----
and her poor kids...
her poor kids, what about them?
Sometimes I think love could change
all of this... l o v e,
it just doesn't exsist.
I wouldn't have to think
how many people HE cheated
on me with-
or how many people I cheated.
The thought of being swept away
seems so fucking fake.
And I'm just getting older with age.
That clock that's fucking ticking away,
stopped at 3:33 am
So I could make a wish.
And the bathroom light is flickering,
and the boy who I thought 'lived next door'
is sleeping across the hall,
and the door that he left open
seems like an invitation tonight
but I will use my good senses,
or the little that is left,
tonight to find my way to my own room.
told them I'd see them on Thursday.
I trampled my already frozen feet
through more snow
to my car
where I changed the CD
before I past the bar
and decided not to go in.
Instead, I drove to the convience store
where I found myself standing in line
with a mexican to my right
trying to count his money.
The smell of his cologne is over powering.
It's just about killing me.
The six packs went up a dime.
Driving in my car
I hear a song
that brings tears to my eyes.
I won't lie.
Back then, at least I had a purpose-
to prove myself, to prove a point.
Everything now is just so boring.
So s l o w
I feel as though,
I could fall off the face of the planet
and no one would even notice.
-or care.
And maybe I don't either anymore.
I start to clean the kitchen
and I rearrange the empty space
left open on the counter.
because I love the way everything
seems brand new-
with the slightest move.
The second to the last beer
was cracked open
and I didn't even notice
the klonopins kicking in
because the hits from the bowl
didn't let it sneak in
too quickly.
As I turn my head away
from the clock on the stove
my eye caught
my giraff slippers.
And they made me remember-
they were the perfect gift
from my mother
because no one else would have thought
I would have loved them so much.
I want to get back on a plane
and fly 3000 miles away
and tell my mother that I was sorry
my father wanted to kill her.
But,
I have to stop apologizing for him.
And my second mother...
the one who raised me
is unhappy with herself
and so is her husband,
that's probably why he's leaving.
It makes me hate all
those fucking bastards.
-every fucking one that made
me crack a little bit
or beat the fuck out of my mother
or cheated on my other
or made my sister more fucked up
than she already is----
and her poor kids...
her poor kids, what about them?
Sometimes I think love could change
all of this... l o v e,
it just doesn't exsist.
I wouldn't have to think
how many people HE cheated
on me with-
or how many people I cheated.
The thought of being swept away
seems so fucking fake.
And I'm just getting older with age.
That clock that's fucking ticking away,
stopped at 3:33 am
So I could make a wish.
And the bathroom light is flickering,
and the boy who I thought 'lived next door'
is sleeping across the hall,
and the door that he left open
seems like an invitation tonight
but I will use my good senses,
or the little that is left,
tonight to find my way to my own room.
