Writings from 11/02 to 3/05. |
5-17-04 There's something under my skin and I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's the loss of acquisition or the stains you leave with sad intention (we never said this would be easy... perhaps it was better left unsaid.) The tiredness of my eyes and the closeness of truth in my lies lead me on to better things and different things and my mood swings. We used to be in love and we were love but now we're something else... so quiet, so distant, and so very uncertain. This isn't evolution, this is cancer and it's not a question but I need answers. I'm getting under your skin again and it won't be long- no it won't be long- til we say good-bye. Til we say our last good-bye. I'll stab at it, I'll kick at it. I'll tear it up til you can't see it (you'll never believe it). I've poached it, I've smoked it and run it into the ground. This is the death of romance as we know it. Kneel down and pray before it. Say it once with me for all-time (forever). Look it in the eye and say good-bye. There's something under my skin. It's a rash, a disease, a fit, a sin. It's marred and so unrecognizable (look what you donelook what you done) and look what it's done to you. The images we created are tarnished with desecration and I can't be happy- (look what you donelook what you done) no I won't be happy- until we are through. I'm getting under your skin again and it won't be long- no it won't be long- til we say good-bye. Til we say out last good-bye. This is the death of romance as we know it. Kneel down and pray before it and smile at me like you knew better so I can say I never would want to wish the hurt on anyone. Anyone, that is, except for you. You'll never talk to me again. |