kiddie cavalry, contemporary classicist with contempt for cliches, kill clashing colors before babies buy your record and relive experinces they've never had. we've been had, we've been had. have you had enough, because i think having said what i said i've heard enough. enough is enough and a horse is a horse is a horse, of course, but a better bitter branch of breezy emotion I've never seen. Hope? is a lie. lie down so i can get those clashing colors colored corectly. you're in shades of gray and grey and green and it is making me sick. i am sick of this relationship. i am sick of you. let me go let me go let me borrow fifteen dollars so i can fly away. you intimidate me, inasmuch as i'm intimidated by your intimacy. me, queen of the bad touch, queen of the bad luck, queen of the sad as such, intimidated by nonesuch touch as my own. it's a bit much but it's better than having no pluck and i'm getting distracted. put my words on your websites and put me to bed before i swallow lead, before i lose my head, before i'm left for dead. the breezeway bucked me off and left me with a fistful of shattered ribs. they slit my wrists and, left by misfits in a crying fit, they cracked my knees so i could see that the concrete attatched to my feet was really there on accident, but that didn't change the fact that right now i'm at the bottom of the ocean and my last gasping breath is occuring through the gills of the fish they wormed into my open screaming mouth. let me out let me out let me out.


I am your sweet dying angel
I have revealed myself for what I am
I have proved myself yours
I have ensured that every day
is torture
for surrounding myself with you

I have done nothing but love you
it is tearing me apart

See, the only thing I feel I can rely on are the strings,
clean and hopeless
just like me.
Me, see, me, I am your Queen.
I am your tub of Vaseline
I am the words from the sentences you string
and the water from the rags you wring
I am nothing you thought to bring
I am the finger with the ring
I am the lie without the sting
and the hopes you fail to sing
My fingers are on the strings,
and angel your eyes were never this wide,
not even when I split you in two and left you for dead.

how dare you.
She looks in the mirror, says her own name until it sounds like nonsense, watches her face until she can't recognize herself, and then tears herself apart.


it would be cliched to suggest world peace
it would be a lie to suggest anything other than you

there's sand behind my ears and six different lies in my teeth
there's a bright yellow bruise on my leg the size of an egg
there's nothing anyone can point out to me that won't remind meof you
and oh god i am a liar

we snatch bodies
and remember
the lie
the liar
but never who we lied to.

i lie to everyone.
i hate this
but i would hate losing you more

please don't hang up on me. please don't send me to bed. please don't ever find this.


Good night, moon
bad night for the sun
i'm leaving you for the moon
moon or bust

i'm not going to call you out for something you haven't said
don't get too excited.
i cannot leave i will not tell i cannot leave i will not tell i cannot leave i will not tell i cannot eave i will not tell. i will not leave. i cannot tell.
it'll fuck your shit up.
"It's a conceptual thing," you said
this was around the time that I thought

"oh, shit."

don't leave me now.
don't leave me alone.
put up a fight when i get off the phone.

in whatever
call me later
we're each other
as good as lovers


i am the velveteen rabbit
i willed myself into existence
i created myself
i can destroy myself
i can do anything
i do not belong here
i do not belong anywhere

put me back in the toybox so i can breathe again.

the butterfly is spreading its wings
adjusting its glasses
fogging up the window

the bird has flown the coop
I am too weak for
the words that stutter and push
through my broken teeth.

you are a liar
but I'm only a painting
with a chipping smile

smile, my sweet true friend
now you have the upper hand
chipped nails tapping desks

spread your pretty hands
even when you're below me,
you come out on top.


i am too tired
wired a liar
born under a bridge at the break of dawn
to a tempest that temporarily tempted me
out of sight, out of mind
you are always on my mind
but see you're lagging behind
i've got this new pair of shoes
and they can cross miles in seconds
i've got this scab on my forehead
from where i'm not good enough
i've got this apostrophe tucked in my back pocket
because sometimes i'm lazy
see, it's not what i believe
it's sensory overload
see, see, see
seas of seas of seeing seas
i am sick of the sea.
this will be so much easier if you let me cry
my only problem is that i never know what you're talking about.

there's a moon
and a sun
and i miss when they thought they were in love.
but the sun's falling out of the sky at an alarming rate,
spiraling down down down until she can't think straight for
the wind in her ears,
the clouds hitting her face
making her believe that maybe she's crying.
the moon's unaware,
if the moon and the sun are who they are.
and they are.

i hit the train station at a quick pace,
but it obviously wasn't quick enough.
because now my shoes are on the ceiling
and i'm tied to the tracks by the only person i don't know.
funny how i always get myself
in these sticky situations.

i am both the spider and the web and the fly.
i am growing legs.
there are too few branches for me to hide under
too few spindles to touch
too few mysteries anymore.

this will be easier if you let me cry
this will be easier if you cry.

no, kyle, it's all a metaphor. donut worry.