The pain accelerates
no stepping back, no brakes
heart and lungs deflate
no words can translate
this suffering and hate
it’s just inside

I’ve had these wounds so long
They’re antiquated
so I keep it all bottled up
it’s the same old, same old
and I know what comes
The accusations are sung
‘You don’t wanna try’
‘you can’t let go’

I can’t let go
I don’t know
Any other feeling
but this gaping fucking hole
deep inside of me
the abyss swallowed me
long ago
there was never anything
that could be left of me
cause I was never ever whole

The answer: White Noise.

When you ask me what I want, all i hear is white noise in my head. And it’s funny because if you hadn’t asked i’d be able to obscure the white noise with more white noise. But you insist on asking me what I want, or worse still, asking me what I want to do. And the answer is in the white noise. I don’t want to do anything. I think I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.

Be an arsehole

I wish I could be an arsehole like you

not caring what others think

not giving any thought to what you do

but then sometimes I glimpse

that side of you

that maybe isn’t too bad

and then I hate it, because then I can’t remember

if I’m meant to feel sorry for you, or pissed off

and you’ve already taken too much sympathy from me

being angry at you feels better

because I can’t take the sorrow of it on my shoulders

so go and be an arsehole

so I can stop caring too.