to break or bury, or wear as jewelry

I can't believe I just told you that.
I've never told anyone besides my immediate family.
And you think I don't trust you, and you don't trust me.

So.

So it's wrong that I'm worried you're going off to fuck some other girl and leave me stranded here?
Why the fuck do I feel so vulnerable with you, anyway?
Why the fuck can't I stop loving you?
I fight for you every day and you go off and hang out with other people, even though you never asked me once to hang out today.
But no, with other people it's cool, you'll go to bars, or a club, or whatever.
That's sweet.
Too bad I'm the one who would fucking move mountains for your dumb ass.
You're actually pissed that I'm sitting here worried as fuck that you're off falling in love with someone else?
Really?
Thanks alot, douchebag.
Thanks alot for even trying to understand what I'm feeling right now. Wait, you didn't.

earth to the world

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I keep saying that I'm sorry. I know it's strange, strange in a "George W. Bush hasn't been assassinated yet" kind of way, but I say I'm sorry for stupid shit and trivial things. And she sings the sweet logic that "apologies should grow like trees only able to bare fruit if its root is planted in the soil of genuine sincerity". But I somehow manage to parody each apology by speaking it before I react and the fact is I'm not really sorry that I completely dig Degrassi. Because it was Yik and Arthur that got me through wet dreams and puberty. Lady, I don't expect you to understand the reference but I've been into this shit ever since the casting director said, "fuck physicality, give me some reality, give me kids who can’t act and are ugly, they'll teach the world about beauty." Lady, I can relate to this because before I met you I used to want to lock myself into a vault just to feel precious but now with every kiss hello and goodbye I feel a self worth no banker could tally. And my heart is a protest that I let rally against my ribs because I want to build my bones into cribs and lay my reluctance to rest; test what it would be like to live frenetically, to hold you unapologetically, to plant a giving tree on my front lawn so that when you're gone it can give you back to me. And I'm sorry that when you sleep next to me you're forced to listen to the symphony of the unplugged nostril and I'm sorry that for one time for some reason I called you ma'am, that's fucked up. Fucked up in an, "I just bought a pair of Speedos so I could go swimming with you" kind of way. And crazier than that is the fact that I will play at being brave because doubt is about as useful as a fire escape when you are trying to dodge a tidal wave. When you've got no time to save anyone but yourself you better believe you're worth it and you are worth the time it takes to take the time to get to know you. We've managed to muddle through the awkward stages of "I like you" and "do you like me" and when we both said yes life became a multiple choice test; not knowing anything we became each others best guess. And holding your hand is less like exploration and more like discovery. Lady, I don't have to study you to be sure you were the choice I made before I knew what the other choices were. And like the best idea I'll ever have I want you to occur to me daily. And I'm sorry but I want to kiss you every time you have something incredible to say but you're beautiful, beautiful in a "you" kind of way. You're like the long lost vinyl of Louis Armstrong and I want to play you and play you until it skips. I want to tell you a secret and I want you to listen with your lips. I want my hands on your hips like they are on their final resting place and put that funeral onto paper so you can trace their life time back to the fact that I'm more inclined to find a space in your heart to haunt for as long as you want me too. Lady, I'll rattle chains up and down the halls of you. And this isn't the greatest romance of the world has ever seen. Lets face it we've been making out to songs about break up and heart ache but I've come to realize that romance should be less like a flower and more like an earthquake. And I'm not saying I want to shake cities to the ground. I'm not saying I want the rubble that remains to become a lost and found where we find the kind of tolerance it takes to rebuild in the face of tragedy. Because I'm tired of living in a world that says people only come together when faced with catastrophe. I want you, to want me, to be the me you see when I'm free to be the me that got me next to you. And as for romance? Well, I want that too. I want to fall asleep next to you, 100 times a night, so I can know you 100 times better before we hit the day light. And despite all of this, I also want amnesia so I can relive each kiss with a perfect newness that leaves me smashed in the arms of rapture. I want the sky to fracture under the impossible weight of an apology because I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I want so much. I'm sorry that I'm using "I'm sorry" as a crutch to lean on for so long but if you sing me that song of sweet logic again then I promise to make the effort to stand on my own. There is a reason that our hearts are more like a muscle and less like a bone. I've known so many people who've have grown up flexing in front of mirrors and falling for their own reflection as if that's adequate but that's bullshit. Because we only get now until the time we go and if they've only got time to love themselves then nobody is going to be around to hear the sound of their heartbeat echo. So lady, don't expect an apology when I tell you I'm only held together by a heart that pumps blue, it's the strongest muscle in my body and I'm flexing it for you.

take this sinking boat and point it home

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Expectation is the root of all heartache.

hold your camera like a bible

And my heart is a protest that I let rally against my ribs because I want to build my bones into cribs
and lay my reluctance to rest; test what it would be like to live frenetically,
to hold you unapologetically, to plant a giving tree on my front lawn so that when you're gone
it can give you back to me.



we all carry these things inside
that no one else can see.
they hold us down like anchors,
they drown us out at sea.

The young man came to the old man seeking counsel.
I broke something, old man.
How badly is it broken?
It's in a million little pieces.
I'm afraid i can't help you.
Why?
There's nothing you can do.
Why?
It can't be fixed.
Why?
It's broken beyond repair; it's in a million little pieces.


i don't need no money, cause it won't last.
just lots of lovin', that's all i ask.
oh, my baby, for rent, for rent, an empty heart,
just say the word and you can move right in.

I'm just a fucked up girl who's looking for her own piece of mind.

If Winter Ends

i dreamt of a fever,
one that would cure me of this cold, winter set heart.
with heat to melt these frozen tears
burned with reasons as to carry on.
into these twisted months i plunge without a light to follow
but i swear that i would follow anything
just get me out of here.
and you get six months to adapt
then you get two more to leave town.
and in the event that you do adapt
we still might not want you around.
but i fell for the promise of a life with a purpose
but i know that that's impossible now.
and so i drink to stay warm
and to kill selected memories
'cause i just can't think anymore about that
or about her tonight
but i give myself three days to feel better
or else i swear i'll drive right off a fucking cliff
'cause if i can't learn to make myself feel better
how can i expect anyone else to give a shit?
and i scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere
just get me past this dead and eternal snow
'cause i swear that i'm dying, slowly but it's happening
and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
just take me there, just take me there, just take me there
and say, and lie to me, and say, and lie to me, and say
it's going to be alright