Blackbird Haunts

There is no goodbye, you'll haunt me now, I'll forget never.

She holds account for my blind love, and I know her curling passion. 

Our hands know where they fit, and I know her sense of humor,

and its not as funny as her goofiness.

She finds me hiding in the shadows, holding onto some old hope, 

she always tells me, "you dont belong there,"

even if I am destroying her mind.

I've known her in her warmth, and I can tell her tale so well you'll weep. I can chart out her motives on a map, and walk out her path for her. I could be her if I wanted to. Cause I know her in my bones.

But its not my place to speak there, its not my place to reveal what I know. I have no right.

I have no right in her life. After what I did, I could believe in a special place for sick men like me.

I have no right in her life, and I was never hers. I was not what I claimed I was. And I knew everyone could see through my facade. I am not made to lie. I'm a liar anyways. A bad one.

She asked me the other day, if I would ever change. And my responses, theyre not enough. You've seen me in my most wicked ways, and you know. My words are fickle; upon temptation and a dark circumstance, I am moved entirely. My words are not profound, I am weak and fragile. And if I am loving you, I am probably also hiding from something. Mostly God...

And when I'm hiding from God, my love gets real sick. 

My eyes are hollow, filled with empty anger and lust.

Death resides under my tongue. And flesh and pus flow from the hinges in my jaw. Its fucking disgusting.

For some reason, I cant help but return here, to this sick objectification of sweet blackbird. Rage burns when I sleep, and when I wake I want to tear at my skin.

Like I said, I could be you.

I could not drink enough gasoline to get you out of my head. I couldn't hold you long enough to keep you. 

I know, your sick of my rotten breath.

I'm sick of it too.