you're so fucking superficial.

alleyways that call themselves home
swimming in a wake of hate
but i'm tired
and i push it out of
my thoughts for the night

slumber versus insomnia.
slumber wins
despite the eight cups of coffee
((more than i've ever had in my lifetime))

i always thought i'd go crazy
if i had more than three cups a day
i guess not.

i thought i asked you before;
if you find yourself so fascinating,
why do you need us?
why do you need me?
you didn't even bother to answer my question
you didn't even try.

did you think we couldn't see through you?
you and
your act?
cellophane.
that's all you are

can you feel that?
it's a pulse.

lazing on your thoughts
and you stare at a ceiling
somewhere past the first one
you are nothing like
you percieve yourself
you're not witty
not mysterious
not sophisticated
not at all

beauty, intelligence
it's all subjective
you didn't know that,
did you?

i can smell smoke
you're on fire
under my fingers

i used to see flames
when i couldn't see honesty

you are the most
predictable, arrogant person i
care to know