the burglar

could i talk through windows
could i look through walls?
thieving away my hopes and lies
second hand verses, chords we don't know

we don't understand how to play
but you sing me to sleep and stay
full of dreams that chase my
nightmares away

and it's becoming obvious
that i can't give you up
so, it's getting late,
won't you stay?

there's a key to my heart
and i don't know where it lays

but i bet if you opened your eyes
long enough to look,
it would fit perfectly in your hand

but you don't need it anyway
because you're breaking in

i would so do that axe undie run.
i have no shame.
and i look damn cute in a lacy bra.

ANYWAAAAAAAAAAAY.
i. hate. my. life.

- "you know he does angel dust now..."

-"he really isn't as big of a druggie as everyone claims"

-"KID. come smell this tequila. does it smell like your boyfriends breath?"

-"...you two would be a cute couple. well, if it wasn't for the.... you know."


YES. I DO KNOW.
AND I HATE EVERY SECOND OF IT.

I feel like I've let some people down. I feel like I'm living a lie. I feel like I'm being ignored. I feel like I'm being let down. I feel like I'm loosing my boundries.

And somehow, it's never been more freeing.

But I still wish I didn't feel those ways.
Because, when I'm alone at 1:44 in the morning, they hurt so bad.

In the name

My imagination has been so many things;
she's a drug, she's a lie, she's a hidden alibi

i love staying up laet to talk to someone who makes me smile. ;)

my imagination

she cries to the touch
bleeds to the taste
throws you away
but you can't forget
her face.