Well it rains and it pours when you're out on your own If I crash on the couch can I sleep in my clothes? 'cause I've spent the night dancing I'm drunk I suppose If it looks like I'm laughing I'm really just asking to leave This alone you're in time for the show You're the one that I need I'm the one that you loathe You can watch me corrode Like a beast in repose 'cause I love all the poison Away with the boys in the band I've really been on a bender and it shows So why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes?
[...] being human is being a young child on Christmas Day who receives and absolutely magnificent castle. And there is a perfect photograph of this castle on the box and you want more than anything to play with the castle and the knights and the princesses because it looks like such a perfect human world, but the only problem is that the castle isn't built. It's in tiny intricate pieces, and although there's a book of instructions you don't understand it. And nor can your parents or Aunt Sylvie. So you are just left, crying at the ideal castle on the box which no one would ever be able to build.
I am not a graceful person. I am not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don’t belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn’t happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don’t see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.