quoi?

Wanting to write but nothing good comes out. Hating yourself for the sourness of spilt milk. In so much pain you can hardly hang on, wishing to hell that yesterday were gone. Wanting nothing more than to see his face again, thier faces...three friends in two years, and its still hard. Youd think that I got used to it by now right? But everytime I close my eyes I relive it. The blood on my hands fresh once more. Id give anything for hurt to be biodegradeable and have it just sink to the floor. I dont understand it. I want to go back to being five when all that mattered was who got the good swing in the park. When you knew the people you fought over the swing with were going to be there the next day. And you knew that they would forgive you. You were five, and thats how shit goes down. Yea five was good

messy shattered glass

It litters my floor while my heart waits to be stepped on again. Under the guilliotine. Slice. Gone in one instant and now all you have left to do is pray for that instant back and god wont answer anymore. "You have reached God, leave a message" I stopped praying and watched the light leave. I dont like it. I miss you, us. I like the sound of the guilliotine. the cleaness, and the swiftness of it all. It takes so little and yet it takes so much. I keep wishing I could hit a rewind button, just for that two extra seconds. Anything. Jump in front of that golden bullet that took the golden boy. I hope you can see me waving. Watch the tears crystalize, and then break them off.

peace out?

guitars, lights, sounds, people, fame. All that matters is what never mattered at all. "I love you" doesnt matter, yet it means the world. But to whom? Or what? Just a pretty band whore. groupie. slut. fangirl. All of the above. Until one of them loves you back...
I love you is different from "I love you", Thought the line is blurred. And yet I hold on tightly, though I have nothing to hold onto but broken dreams. And maybe some slipped on bananas. Yet I dont want to say goodbye?