shaken not stirred

it seems like trying is all I do these days
and I'm living in a nonresponsive
relm of unconsciences
writing my name upsidedown
on the doors of people
who will never care as much as
those who made me everything
I'm listening to a give and take of nothing
and I'm sitting here finding myself
laughing at nothing they'd ever understand
take my hand and lead me through the door,
it will never be as hard as I try and make it
I'm remembering everything
and keeping tabs on my downfalls

what was the point in turning myself
into a pile of slurred speech and cigarettes
when all it boiled down to was your ignorace?
I'm telling myself you're the opposite
and I have no reason to give a reason to care
I'll stop falling over myself
and you won't hear my voice come friday night
(firsts and lasts)

my lungs have seen too much smoke
and I've made my liver's life and death decision
without its permission
saturday nights have become something I never thought I'd see
and my eyelids are never alert enough to catch the signs
tell me there's something I'm missing
because I've fallen backwards into
another bed I've never seen before

once, everything was all too familiar
now I'm spirialing
grabbing onto anything and everything
screaming my wants and needs
into the silence of a nonresponsive room
hoping that someday
the world will open up and swallow me whole
because I've taken my words too seriously
and every love song was a lie
hello, once again, to my empty sheets

with friends like these, who needs "love"?
I'm wasting emotion on nothing
save my cares hideously devoide of anything real
this is what any sane person would consider happiness
but I've never claimed sanity
it's always been exactly the opposite
so I'll continue to lament this pathetic excuse for
afridaynight, wrongnotright, takethistoyourgrave, givemesomething
REAL