Lying on the floor
Are the broken pieces of things
I never wanted anyway.
I'm not careful what I wish for.
And I live for the chaos,
Love seeing life spiral out of control;
But I've got to take the reigns
Or cut the cord, because
I only feign submission.
Messy coffee table,
Pen and paper's all I've got--
Well, and empty ramen cups.
I'm not careful what I wish for.
And I know that he loves me.
He plays all the pretty love songs,
But he's never written one for me
Or more than a letter because
He thinks that I just know.
I want to run away,
Maybe to England, maybe France
Or Spain and Portugal.
I'm not careful what I wish for.
And I'll communicate via postcards,
Never pick up a phone.
But I won't miss here much,
Or wish I was back home because
I love isolation...
Comment away ^_^
Comments
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Who does not wish to escape the mundane ill-lusion of their world, and explore the vast empyrean of the universe that exists and expands far beyond the reaches of their earthbound catacombs.
Even "love" gets old, wilts and becomes stale when it sits in front of a dirty, stained window that never opens to warm and breath in the sunlit fresh air, oui?
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