Who Knows Where This Ends?
Who knows where this ends? Living in an endless cycle with only my thoughts of you remaining of any real feeling I had. But they died years ago. So what does that leave me with? You were an old flame and I still see you in flames. Twist, run and burn. Calories keep you in check just like your emotions. I've lost all recognition. Who cares anymore, just dancing in tune to keep our youth, it's going to run out some day. Who knows where this all ends. Every night is just a struggle to forget.
I'm not wracked with guilt, I'm not faced in shame. I've got nothing now and it makes me devoid. A paralytic robot that makes sense of shutting down. Sex and skin, what remains in your secret scheme of things. A double standard that could never make sense. The architect of the monument. Set fire with matches. Burn everything down, exhaust the very ethic with femme fatale motifs. But the end? There was no ending. Gather on down for a game of chicken limbo. You're the chicken and I'm in limbo.
Who knows where this ends like a crazed secret that goes on like Chinese Whispers. What's that you say? It was ages ago? Secret monuments and empty sweet nothings. Nothing works as well as fucking with the mind because the body is weak. You're scarred for life and you pass those scars onto your next victim. The hawk gathers the worm in one fell swoop. I'm sorry I fell in love, it was the hormones talking. Not me.
Not a day goes by. Not a week. Not a month. Not a year. Decades and centuries - no use in these. Try to love again but I still wear the same cloak and I know there's a private joke in there somewhere. There's no secret, it's all a lie. You'll leave in an ambulance if I could only bear to pass a resemblance of living myself. A paralytic robot is what I believe in. Mechanical actions of fucking corpses. A ventriloquist knew how to make my every move. Knew how to speak every word. And every action I made, you knew where to move. I might as well be a dead parrot.
But you knew the secret, didn't you? You knew how to tamper with everything with a mix of naivete and sexuality. Rewire my brain so that it was to your liking. Rewire my thoughts, rewire my voice. To seek and destroy personality into twisted sexuality. You created Frankenstein and I wanted you to be the bride. But you had something to hide. It was a game after all, there were plenty of illusions and I felt the liaison grow deeper. But I was a fool.
If I feel anything it'll be forgotten in the morning. Right after you appear again. And then it'll begin again. Or something else might.
I'm not wracked with guilt, I'm not faced in shame. I've got nothing now and it makes me devoid. A paralytic robot that makes sense of shutting down. Sex and skin, what remains in your secret scheme of things. A double standard that could never make sense. The architect of the monument. Set fire with matches. Burn everything down, exhaust the very ethic with femme fatale motifs. But the end? There was no ending. Gather on down for a game of chicken limbo. You're the chicken and I'm in limbo.
Who knows where this ends like a crazed secret that goes on like Chinese Whispers. What's that you say? It was ages ago? Secret monuments and empty sweet nothings. Nothing works as well as fucking with the mind because the body is weak. You're scarred for life and you pass those scars onto your next victim. The hawk gathers the worm in one fell swoop. I'm sorry I fell in love, it was the hormones talking. Not me.
Not a day goes by. Not a week. Not a month. Not a year. Decades and centuries - no use in these. Try to love again but I still wear the same cloak and I know there's a private joke in there somewhere. There's no secret, it's all a lie. You'll leave in an ambulance if I could only bear to pass a resemblance of living myself. A paralytic robot is what I believe in. Mechanical actions of fucking corpses. A ventriloquist knew how to make my every move. Knew how to speak every word. And every action I made, you knew where to move. I might as well be a dead parrot.
But you knew the secret, didn't you? You knew how to tamper with everything with a mix of naivete and sexuality. Rewire my brain so that it was to your liking. Rewire my thoughts, rewire my voice. To seek and destroy personality into twisted sexuality. You created Frankenstein and I wanted you to be the bride. But you had something to hide. It was a game after all, there were plenty of illusions and I felt the liaison grow deeper. But I was a fool.
If I feel anything it'll be forgotten in the morning. Right after you appear again. And then it'll begin again. Or something else might.
posted by Plastic Retriever at 12:04 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home