So now you’ve peaked at thirty And nobody’s here to save you So you shove down bile Like cheap whiskey The burn in your throat Asks if you’re still thirsty?
Like maybe there could be more than this Like maybe you could breathe Like maybe you’re not just wasted air Between one blink and the grave
So now your bones are curving inwards And your body shakes at night Salt sweat brow on pillow case Are these dreams sweet dreams What you thought they would be?
So now you’re damned and empty yet Howling wind in hollow frame Do these screams belong to you? Or is it just a noise you make To keep your insides from spilling out
So now you’re older than you ever meant to be You promised yourself a morphine drip Six years gone and you’re still here So now, so now, so now, you cry So what? They say, times have changed Leave your face in the mirror And forget about shoes Go outside in barefeet what’s there to lose? This place is a prison, you’ll say it again Yet you built it yourself you chose the fucking bars So tell me again about what you think you deserve And I’ll drive the white horses acting as hearse Climb in, climb in, last call, let’s go But dammit you’re not done but guess your number’s up Tell a joke, it’s gallows humour and nobody laughs Any last words for the audience due to applaud? No. I didn’t think so. Call this your remorse.
I have this dream – clean white sheets and the sun streaming in – dust motes in the air, getting caught in the rays – and it’s morning – it’s morning and I’ve been awake a little while – still drowsy but there’s nowhere to be so it’s okay – maybe it’s a weekend or maybe we made it – we don’t have to get up because our lives don’t depend on nine til five – I don’t know. But our hands – my left and your right – we’ve got them – I don’t know how to say it, sort of raised in the air between us, and it’s like a sense memory – none of this ever happened – but I can feel what it was like to push your fingers down and play with them – sliding my fingers between them like they were meant to be there – finding the tiny webs between them and being in awe of how delicate it all is – and how I wanted to bite at your knuckles because I was so in love that I wanted to hurt – like when you see something so beautiful you want to destroy it? And I dragged my nails down your wrist, gently, not even leaving marks, tracing the veins there and you were so breakable like maybe your bones were hollow and your skin shone in the morning light like maybe you were something otherworldly and you were, to me. And I remember thinking how lucky I was to have this. Like amber solidifying. This one moment. And it never happened. But God, it’s in my head and I can picture and feel every goddamn second of it, and if that isn’t the worst goddamn thing you ever heard –