"I was spinning free with a little sweet and simple numbing me"

I'm twisting and turning and now I know what it feels like to be a sinking ship. The first step is always acceptance, and so I accepted I needed you to be the better part of me. We're split ends tearing off the seams. I slip into your dreams and I'm gently caressed by sweet indifference that so lovingly deals with me carelessly. I'm a high tide. I'm a sinking ship.

I wonder how long it must take to cauterize every remainder of you in my heart. The bruises sink into me like anchors and your eyes are wide enough for me to swim comfortably. I'm loving just how bittersweet this is. I hope someday you'll miss me, but until then I'll satisfy myself with lying to my brain. If living is just a lie, then dreaming is my pride. I could be an attempt for your bottles and lips to give a try, again. Maybe I'm not sane, but who's to judge that anyway? This self-inflicting pain only gives myself away. I've learned to give up the harshest part of your heart. The one that you let loose and fell in love with the stars. Break the press and snap yourself weightless. The flashing lights get into your head. The love you lead is not permanent. Nothing ever will be.

I only serve myself in a silver platter to be fed to the wolves. I need to relive their hunger and my mind is composed of wool. Tricky, tricky. Nothing is ever as it seems, and undoubtedly there is nothing worse than for the end to be the opposite of what you dreamed. False inspiration and high tide hopes. Sweet water hearts sinking like a ship getting torn apart in a storm. Let loose and let me in. I want to be your original sin. Give me holy water, for I want to be blessed. The outline of my heart is made out of tin. A galaxy of lights in your bedroom. High heels and classy black dresses decorate the floor. I'm marking my path for embracing hands carved out of stone. I'm never OK. I never will be. I'll be the last dead man walking to grace your room. C'est la vie.