the
television set combats the early morning light attempting to violate
her state of mind. it makes her feel dirty. chirping birds and dew. the
realization that everyone will eventually be coming back to reality to
fuck up her solitude. polly jean sings in the background. the other one
stirs but never snaps out of it. she longs for some sort of peace in her
mind, to feel something in that ravaged chunk of meat some refer to as a
heart. this isn't a game. this isn't a thrill ride in negativeland.
this is real life. she's come to terms with that but can't find a way
to properly cope.
sleep never comes easily for her.
11 a.m. brings on nightmare after bleeding heart nightmare.
9 p.m brings repetition and redundancy.
2 a.m. brings on the never ending desperation.
storm out stage left.
fight the emptiness.
re-enter stage right.
miss bliss suffocates on her own words. she's said them over and over and over and yang never comes back at her with what she thinks her mind needs. yang feels for her. he keeps a chunk of her wrapped tightly around his pinky finger and refuses to give up that tie that he unknowingly binds with. she doesn't seem to mind so much. there's a deep rooted connection, and it's always cataclysmic.
and it goes on
and on
and on.
but her fingers never want to touch another living soul for as long as she lives. her tongue has been tied & her eyes only see what they want. she can't make it stop. nothing positive can come of it because they can't be. not together. not now. maybe ever. so she holds on for as long as he lets her. she finds comfort in her surroundings and tries to forget every catastrophic incident they have shared. she thought she loved him, but her emotions are fucked and expressing them in a suitable fashion is nearly impossible for her. he gets inside her and wraps his hands around her heart. she is powerless. if they could just run away like some sort of gypsy landslide, life would be perfect. but she can't stay and he won't run.
sleep never comes easily for her.
11 a.m. brings on nightmare after bleeding heart nightmare.
9 p.m brings repetition and redundancy.
2 a.m. brings on the never ending desperation.
storm out stage left.
fight the emptiness.
re-enter stage right.
miss bliss suffocates on her own words. she's said them over and over and over and yang never comes back at her with what she thinks her mind needs. yang feels for her. he keeps a chunk of her wrapped tightly around his pinky finger and refuses to give up that tie that he unknowingly binds with. she doesn't seem to mind so much. there's a deep rooted connection, and it's always cataclysmic.
and it goes on
and on
and on.
but her fingers never want to touch another living soul for as long as she lives. her tongue has been tied & her eyes only see what they want. she can't make it stop. nothing positive can come of it because they can't be. not together. not now. maybe ever. so she holds on for as long as he lets her. she finds comfort in her surroundings and tries to forget every catastrophic incident they have shared. she thought she loved him, but her emotions are fucked and expressing them in a suitable fashion is nearly impossible for her. he gets inside her and wraps his hands around her heart. she is powerless. if they could just run away like some sort of gypsy landslide, life would be perfect. but she can't stay and he won't run.
