I want to move far, far away
so never again will I have to see your face
because without it, I'm OK.

But on those days,
bright eyes displayed,
my sunny skies turn gray.

Not OK, not OK, not OK.

OCD, ADD, logic at bay.
Legs shaking, heart beating,
won't you stay?

Oh,
not
oh-
kay.

Bright lights and white parking lines
are the best things to define
this mess that I have made mine,
all mine.



Kiss my ear,
kiss my hair,
kiss my lips.
Be there.
Please, be there.


--

I'm tired of being analytical and screwed and whatever. Just whatever. Drown me in Bright Eyes, please. I want to drive for hours and starve for years. I'm over dramatic, and I don't care.

I'm seeing scales and numbers and letters and changes.

And my heart hurts. For you.