out of time
the deadline hangs across my throat yearning
for your teeth to sink into my lips i hope that
you’ll break my body like you did with my heart
your smile was a blade and i’m made of paper
goodbyes floating in the air running out of time
to break my skin over the hymn of your voice
The last thing I wanted to tell you
The last thing I wanted to tell you,
you suspected it the whole time,
the last thing I wanted to tell you
It was all my fault
Chat With An Old Friend
I’m surprised you came. I didn’t think you’d want to meet with me after the trial, what with how things went down and such.
I’m sure you’re feeling awful good about yourself right now. Sitting there, on the other side of this glass, it must make you feel real smart. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s why you’re here: to gloat. If not to me, than to yourself.
Oh, shut your trap. Thanks to you, I only have so much time left, and I’m not keen on listening to whatever bull you feel like spitting now.
The only reason I called you here was to say that as pissed off as I am, I forgive you. I figure it's in my best interest that I clean my slate before finally coming face to face with the man in the sky, so there you go. Hope it's enough to help you sleep at night.
Oh, speaking of cleaning the slate, there’s just one last thing I wanted to tell you: the cops know where the body is. Yeah, you thought that information would die with me, huh? Well, as much as I can’t stand cops, death row changes things about a man, and I figured nothing would make a better last meal than revenge- my final sin. Best of luck, old friend; you’re gonna need it.
The last thing I wanted to tell you
before I go
is that you’ll reman the same
with your handkerchiefs
and your neutral accent
but I’ve changed
I no longer need you
to need me
i’ve come to terms
with the fact that
you’ll forget all about me
You Should Know
I have loved you in every sense of the word. You have been a friend, a best friend, and closer to me than family. I have been in love with you. I think maybe you may have been in love with me too. Maybe for a day or two we were even in love at the same time. But I never told you because I love you too much. The thought of us being in love and then falling apart was too much for me to stand. We could have had the kind of love that people write songs about. I could have died happy knowing that you loved me the way I loved you. I could have married you, built a life with you, and grown old with you. But the even 1% chance that going down that road would mean losing you was too big a risk. I love you too much to not have you in my life. I love you. You can take that to mean whatever you need it to mean.
It didn't really hit for a month that you had disappeared until in the middle of me trying to sleep before ten in the morning, the thought that you're a cigarette smoker and that this is killing smokers wafted into my head. It's odd the thoughts that leak out when you are afraid of someone dying and don't have the reassurance of them telling you to stop being weird and that they are fine. The first thought was that I wanted to kick you for not quitting sooner, then annoyance at the thought that you probably relapsed and started smoking again from everything that's happening. I wanted to get the sweet relief of knowing that my worries were for nothing. I had hoped that at any moment of that freak-out, you'd text me and all the worries would fade into foolish shame, then waft away. It didn't happen and I listened to music until I gave up on sleeping and got up at nine. That was April.
Normal comes and goes. You know you told me that towards the end of the 90-day challenge, the wet dreams became so vivid that waking up was such a letdown? That's where I am now. I have surpassed 90 days now, and every dream is torturous. I would like to explain that this only when you are gone. I can control myself for the most part. But when you are not, my mind can run so vividly. Things I never really wanted are suddenly all I think about. Marriage, unwanted pregnancies, you meeting my family, you reaching out to me while I'm at work and all types of gross shit like that continually flows through my head.
Since you are constantly racing through my mind, the things I would say to you are constantly changing. I miss you, I hate you, I want to hit you with a car. I want to kick you and punch you in the shoulder for leaving in the middle of a damn crisis. I want to tell you that I worked on my stand up jokes and try some on you. I want to bitch about the fact that people are still dying and everyone is getting "cancelled" and how much I want this race to burn. I want to joke with you and have the person that makes me feel me back again. I miss you. I guess that's the last thing I wanted to say to you.
The last thing I wanted to tell you is how fat you look in that dress.