It breaks, it breaks and tears away...
I've asked her 1, 000 times if she's alright and I'm
less and less convinced by her each reply of 'I'm fine'.
Swathed in pale bedside lamp light,
she's never looked more beautiful or refined
I'm rolling over back on my back staring at the biege
wall we painted once when things were different
She's turning her back to me and murmurs her 'goodnights'
to me lacklusterly
Clicks off the lamplight that ushers in swathed and
depths of velveteen evening this night
I put my thin and withered arm and wrist over her deep
and rhythmically breathing chest
I'm rolling over behind her,
trying and wishing and hoping to be noticed, but she doesn't notice
She's stiff and resistant to my touch at which her
skin withers and creeps and I retract my arm
And my heavy and laden eyelids drift shut and as they
do I see me, not through my own eyes
In a 3rd person perspective,
creeping into the kitchen and grabbing the breadknife
tight in my right hand
Padding my way back up the stairs to where she's sleeping
and momentarily kneeling beside her prostrate frame
Feeling nothing but the warm handle in my sweat slicked palm
All of a sudden I find that I'm driving the blade with
an awful force fully into her forehead,
where a sickening vermillion grin spreads
Where she used to frown in incomprehension at me
Begins spewing disgusting,
ugly crimson upon the crisp white sheets she cleaned recently
She doesn't move a muscle becomes vague and fades away
And I'm left with the nothingness that usuall resides
behind my eyelids as I drift off into unconsioucsness
Since you started to tear us apart
I can only hope my fingernails leave sore and bleeding scratch marks
Jesus, how can he be so needy,
I can see that he needs me but just recently he's quite
simply been the last thing that I need
Why couldn't he just let me be and be quiet while we
watch some mindless TV?
Grabbing at my hands and shoulders, fucking utterly suffocating me.
I don't mean to be mean so I don't say anything then
he sits staring forlornly direction
Asking if I'm alright to which I reply I'm fine,
which isn't enough of a response apparently
Then he asks me again and again and I'm doing my best
not to lose my temper.
Said that I was going to bed just after 10 to get some
small space and put things into perspective
Try to figure out if this slump we're in is permanent
and when the rot first set in was when we should have left it.
But I love him deep down, there's once a time when
I couldn't picture my life without him in it
But in these recent weeks it's seemed to me that those
crazy, hazy days are over and finally finished.
Can't hide my irritation when he says he's coming to
bed and I'm disgusted and surprised by the disgust
I feel by his pathetic expression of being wounded
on his face and in his eyes.
Now I'm heavily breathing,
pretending to be sleeping,
he lols his fucking arm across me wihtout any consideration
for the fact that I'm finally resting.
And I feel like I'm having to bite my tongue bloody
to not wheels around and scream, 'get the fuck off me'
I can't believe that I've let myself spend so many
nights rigid in misery because I feel chained,
restrained, pained by guilt and history
And it sickens me that he'd rather be a part of this
horrific heart ache than risk being on his own and lonely.
Nothing makes sense, except one thing and of that I'm sure
I don't want him to love me any more...
And I'll be holding on until the skin breaks
I've asked her 1, 000 times if she's alright and I'm
less and less convinced by her each reply of 'I'm fine'.
Swathed in pale bedside lamp light,
she's never looked more beautiful or refined
I'm rolling over back on my back staring at the biege
wall we painted once when things were different
She's turning her back to me and murmurs her 'goodnights'
to me lacklusterly
Clicks off the lamplight that ushers in swathed and
depths of velveteen evening this night
I put my thin and withered arm and wrist over her deep
and rhythmically breathing chest
I'm rolling over behind her,
trying and wishing and hoping to be noticed, but she doesn't notice
She's stiff and resistant to my touch at which her
skin withers and creeps and I retract my arm
And my heavy and laden eyelids drift shut and as they
do I see me, not through my own eyes
In a 3rd person perspective,
creeping into the kitchen and grabbing the breadknife
tight in my right hand
Padding my way back up the stairs to where she's sleeping
and momentarily kneeling beside her prostrate frame
Feeling nothing but the warm handle in my sweat slicked palm
All of a sudden I find that I'm driving the blade with
an awful force fully into her forehead,
where a sickening vermillion grin spreads
Where she used to frown in incomprehension at me
Begins spewing disgusting,
ugly crimson upon the crisp white sheets she cleaned recently
She doesn't move a muscle becomes vague and fades away
And I'm left with the nothingness that usuall resides
behind my eyelids as I drift off into unconsioucsness
Since you started to tear us apart
I can only hope my fingernails leave sore and bleeding scratch marks
Jesus, how can he be so needy,
I can see that he needs me but just recently he's quite
simply been the last thing that I need
Why couldn't he just let me be and be quiet while we
watch some mindless TV?
Grabbing at my hands and shoulders, fucking utterly suffocating me.
I don't mean to be mean so I don't say anything then
he sits staring forlornly direction
Asking if I'm alright to which I reply I'm fine,
which isn't enough of a response apparently
Then he asks me again and again and I'm doing my best
not to lose my temper.
Said that I was going to bed just after 10 to get some
small space and put things into perspective
Try to figure out if this slump we're in is permanent
and when the rot first set in was when we should have left it.
But I love him deep down, there's once a time when
I couldn't picture my life without him in it
But in these recent weeks it's seemed to me that those
crazy, hazy days are over and finally finished.
Can't hide my irritation when he says he's coming to
bed and I'm disgusted and surprised by the disgust
I feel by his pathetic expression of being wounded
on his face and in his eyes.
Now I'm heavily breathing,
pretending to be sleeping,
he lols his fucking arm across me wihtout any consideration
for the fact that I'm finally resting.
And I feel like I'm having to bite my tongue bloody
to not wheels around and scream, 'get the fuck off me'
I can't believe that I've let myself spend so many
nights rigid in misery because I feel chained,
restrained, pained by guilt and history
And it sickens me that he'd rather be a part of this
horrific heart ache than risk being on his own and lonely.
Nothing makes sense, except one thing and of that I'm sure
I don't want him to love me any more...
And I'll be holding on until the skin breaks
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