i've got your love notes in my top drawer, baby

words lost or ruined between head and fingers
first thing you said to me "words actually limit our expression"
from there i should have predicted the rest
(the understanding makes up for the inability to communicate)
how the disease would progress and whether there was a chance of recovery
a prognosis (nocebo vs placebo)
something to split hair over
running out of escuses like running out of hell
putting words in your mouth and putting words to rest
underground veins and loves in an invisible city
jaywalking through crossroads
windows designed less like opporunities and more like protection (draw the curtains, if i dont see it, it doesn't exist)
peer through and you just might see something you like
you're something i'm glad i didn't miss
we're laughing off comparisons to the city and your insides
how "sirens can be both good and bad"
explain that one to me
"how love can kill and save at the same time"
heartbeats like car horns or gun shots
(the occasional accident made or injury taken)

she talks like you were the filth inside of me and she's finally scrubbed me clean. doesn't know that you might have been the last bit of me that was worth anything
doesn't know that you might have been my last shot at something i could be proud of
a battle of "your enemy's enemy is your friend" vs "sleeping with the enemy" shes a part of me you'll never know
and i'd say "but i just can't let that go" but to you it's over and done with.
if there is one fucking thing i'll stand by is saying i'd never give up.
and i have in a sense but i smile whenever i picture your bright face
like its exploded inside me but the pieces are still there (you can still make out a few dates, words)
but you don't get it. and in a secretitive way i dont want you to.
keeping special things close, keeping fear closer
chained hopes from getting up
wanting, needing..but at the same time being ok
like an abusive relationship with you in my mind
(holds me down and beats me up)
she doesn't want me to hurt
and sitting here its a heartache to think you're only in my mind.
how the keyboard keys stick and the backspace is hesitent to delete errors (in judgement)
reading my mind from right to left
the first time i saw you through a shopglass window and not face to face (like losing something you love to something you hate)

an escape from LA studios and words like veins return blood to the heart

postcards slipped under doors. empty footsteps and the key comes a little too late. a story that is hard to start.

ninety nine monster vs mystery ma(d)n(ness)

and it mean nothing to you
but the world to me