Maybe all things really do fall apart and maybe this is a poster situation scribbled over with highlighter and the black light make the luminous neon color stick out and stab you in the heart

Maybe a telephone wire can strangle all you have worked for and tie your hands together with a string of words that you never meant to say

Maybe that lump in your throat that wants to come out and cry will stay there make you sound like the sadness is amplified to all the watts of energy you put into this

And don't say I never do anything for you because my heart is covered in tattered gauze from being beaten so many times and it just wants a drink of your kisses to heal it for a week and to not beat for a month. So maybe this record setting sadness can climb the billboard charts on a rope that's unraveling, and just maybe when breaks, all the superglue won't mend it this time, and all those band-aids might as well be air.

Fuck off