girlfriend.
what a phenomenal word.
oh, this is what takes away any independence, any hope that maybe one day everything might just turn out in control and okay.
a girlfriend is something that i never ever agreed to be.
at least, i'd like to believe so.

and now I’m stuck with you.
until after that fucking dance.
that fucking, goddamned dance.
relationships are supposed to insight happiness, love is a beauty so many talk about lavishly.
how naive.
love is just another one of those thousands of struggles life throws at our faces, constantly making us work to stay awake in this world.
it's almost pointless sometimes to take on another challenge.

the hippies had it right with that free love shit.
find someone you like, have a fling, then it's over.
these days, we call that person a whore.
but isn’t that a lot easier than having to deal with some goddamned clingy asshole following you around every step you take?
one that doesn’t listen when you actually crawl out of your shell?
growing up a female, i would have given anything to have been born a boy.
i could have done anything i wanted, but with the vagina in tact, im bound to societal rules that i refuse to abide by.
i admit it, i have before, I’m afraid of commitment.
getting married will be the death of my soul.
but i can stay here with you,
for this long,
can't you realize the pain that's fucking caused me?

and when i actually need someone close to me,
to talk to: won't you listen for once?
i hide in a bubble of glass,
my isolated cage from the sharpness of reality that i feel,
only letting in those who i trust,
and once you gain the privilege:
you shove it right back in my face.
it shows that you must be on my mind,
for you're the only thing that can flow undoubtedly out of my fingertips, causing a spasm of words, language dying to express the well-known tries of love.
this common feeling that's been ranted about so many times and times again, yet we haven’t quite divulged the inner secrets to our feelings as a species yet.
if we are such an advanced race, why do we let ourselves be burdened by the ultimate struggles of the emotional path?

i've regained direction,
upside down.
i really dont know where im going,
but forward on the train tracks,
seeking silence from the speakerbox of toys.

do you ever wonder where i go when i am gone?
can you ever whisper through the microphone?

a pair of blue lace panties, forgotten on the ground.
yourself in funhouse mirrors spinning round and round.
are we expanding,
or are we simply too ignorant to notice our own shrinking?

i can't promise you a cake on your birthday,
or a surprise every fall,
but if you let me promise something useful,
i can show you a world you've never thought of at all.

i can paint a picture of the sun,
burning extraordinary,
white and green and lost.
the spinning of our own revelation,
is a sermon without a clue.

who cannot endure the pleasure of looking over at you?
why am i not spinning faster than the sun?

a world of battleships and starcrafters combined,
an imagination incapable of controlling a mind,
if i were to tell you, this was your own regret,
would you believe a single word i said?

the rooster wont crow tomorrow morning,
as i sent it to the sun.
i fed it cranberries, with a hint of cyanide.
i wont wake you up tomorrow morning,
you'll have to kiss your forhead on your own,
the rooster and i are napping back behind the barn.