st. bartholomew's self-massacre of 1567

(ugh, the kissing again. do we have to hear the kissing?)

you ask me where i'm going.
i'm going nowhere but home,
away from this stupid party
to sit on my bed alone.
as i trip over your doorstep
and shiver in the breeze,
i stumble towards the light of morning
that holds no sympathy.

another night camped out on my couch again,
sleeping with someone i thought used to be a friend.

broken bottles and shattered souls.
ripped up jeans with tattered holes.
frosty breath on tonight's air.
a turn for the poetic with a melodramatic flair.
my skin is dry and hollow and flaking.
i'm always the goddamn same.
cant make it down the street on my own,
what a fucking shame.

another night camped out on my couch again,
sleeping with someone i thought used to be a friend.

(san dimas high school football RULES!)

another night camped out on my couch again,
sleeping with someone i thought used to be a friend.



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