Texty: Jawbreaker. Etc.. Housesitter.

I lost all my thoughts of
angels in an aspirin billboard.
Walking down 16th street,
hit the cross street: Catatonia.
I wish I had the strength
to do your drugs, it must take strength.
This life inside is
hard to bring outside.

Now you turn and cross the corner.
Cold sweat. Think of what's for dinner.
Think I should be thinking deeper.
This is your excuse to go outside.

I'm sick, not hungry. Sick of
people starved for love.
I keep creating errands to
talk to people to talk to me.
But still nothing human.
Money changes hands is all.
This world's a broken record
skipping on a call with no response.

This is what you've been working towards.
This punishment is your reward.
After all this time you'd think you'd learn.
When you got your wish, bridges were burned.

What are you taking
so hard and why?
And are you giving
anything back?
Misgiving isn't just
another form of giving, is it?
You made your life.
Now live in it.

Learning how to live without her.
The one who gave you thirty chances.
All of which you promptly blew.
If up to you, you'd die to not offend