talk to me
we'll go smoke pot out in the back
you can tell me how your life sucks and
i'll return the favor
who knows, maybe it does?
alarm goes off, sentimentality showing
note to self: must present hardened image to world
if i was actually nice, i might lose this protection
of mine.
so fuck off, you
leave us alone to
put on more eyeliner and
bitch at each other's closed faces
inwardly turned
if it's not about me, then who's it about?
and why should i give a fuck?
no one asked you, bitch.
and inside, it hurts a little because
i haven't done a good enough job hiding
yet.
those hospital people, i guess, would say that
i'm avoidant, i need attention, but
the more they say it, the more it
becomes my own and i can
change it to make it mine inside me inside me inside me
the rhythm of my heartbeat just
falters a bit, and
i know i'm dying but
who really cares?

~.~

this is for a friend of mine. i'm sorry. don't take it too literally... please? i can't explain.