headlight eyes

Twilight singers - the conversation. - 3 can keep a secret if 2 are dead and gone.

There was a time when we would kiss so hard I stood so proud and tall.

Then you pulled my chair from out from under me and fucked off with it all.

Now my hearts black and blue but that's alright cuz you don't give a damn.

So I wrote you this letter that says go fuck yourself cuz that's just who I am.

Praying lately is like remembering everything I should have been. It seems like I'm expecting all of this. Not so much these petty glories, so much as this great demise. And its not like I don't see it coming. I've been fucking schooled. Steeped in this. From a young age. My roots my past. Its comical, how quick someone can change. And worse, how much faith people can put into who they are at any given moment and believe they have discovered themselves forever. Feel the powder burn. I miss the smell of fresh cut grass. To this day its my most favourite smell in the world. It reminds me of playing in the yard when I was young. Getting my feet all stained green with fresh cut grass. And then mom yelling at me for tramping green feet through the house. I hope they never sell that house. They still live there. Where I grew up. The same street. The same block. The same second story window I used to pee out of.
The same first story window I used to sneak out of. Things were simple back then. They don't sleep on the beach in coney anymore. I live on my head now. Cuz its not so much the world that has turned upside down on me as me on the world. I guess its easier to eat shit when u stand on your head tho. I dare you to play a videogame with me right now at this second. If you beat me I'd probably strangle you with the chord. Its so common to find people in such desperate need of an identity. But its only those that feel cornered into needing one that do. You can always tell the difference. I didn't need to be something or someone or look like something until a certain age. When your perfect world is shatterd by one fuck with a drunk as a dad and forfeit as a mother decides to fill you in on how much worse you look than him. The first punch is always the most painful. And most memorable. Its usually the one that defines what type of reaction you will be. The instant realization of a need to not be judged but accepted is born. I remember it. I remember the class. I remember the day. I remember the period. I remember his stupid fucking face. I remember his words. His hate. His mindless hate. I did not threaten him in anyway. I didn't even know his name. But I remember his hate his words. Was I really pour? I didn't think so. Were my shoes really that shitty? I remember buying them with dad only a week before. I had even saved up my own money. I remember his words. That fuck. The point of this isn't to blubber or pitty. Its just me realizing there is a point in time in all of our lives in which a turning point occurs. Of which innocense is broken. Of which compensation for what we are lead to believe is a loss becomes an enemy to ourselves all on its own. It will kill you if you let it. I hate the way it looks at me as if I was broken. How far will I run. Probably not far. I'll probably run out of breath or get a cramp. Maybe twist an ankle or trip on something. Stupid fuck. Remember. Its not about how strong you are. Its about how well you can trick people into thinking that your only pretending to cry.