Waking up in a sweat,
tired and hungry,
but no one seems to listen anymore.
Smoke another cigarette, drink another water bottle, fall asleep in a lawn chair.
Riding in a car feels like doomsday, but I swear I’ll go anywhere with you, babe.
I don’t eat anymore, but I still want to devour every inch of you.
My mother still asks if I’m okay, but she doesn’t want to know the answer.
At least you know to listen. You know what you’re in for, you know?
I’m so overworked and overtired, I just want to bawl. But I know that isn’t an option.
They told me they were sick. Sick of this shit, sick of everything. Sick of all of it.
I miss them, still. Can we at least pretend to still be friends?
No one seems to listen anymore.
But you do. At least, I think you do.
I think you should. We all do, right?
I ask how you’re feeling, too.
Just to make sure.
You always answer the same, even though I never do.
Are you sick of this shit, too?
Same old same old, commonplace complaining, secondhand sadness.
My anxious tendencies leave me on the floor. Again.
When I woke up, I heard that old song playing in my ears again.
Acoustic, of course.
♫ I tremble… They’re gonna eat me alive... ♪
But there’s nothing left to eat.
Not even a bone to pick at.
You left me out for the vultures and I let them devour me, like you’d hoped.