Club

Club

Aftermath, bad paint job

Lights which sting

What am I to you? A concept?

I am human, dry flecks of skin

Torrent of thought

Pain in the lobby

Bad ideas, shattered thoughts

Love me, I am calling for you to love me

To fix me. I am broken inside and my head is a mess

Ever since I let you know I was real

I wish I was make-believe and made of rain

I want to be one of them sometimes

Despite everything I say and wear

I might just give it up and sell myself to real life (if they’d only answer the phone)

I stood on my own for four hours

Sucking on a plastic cup of dust

And all my fears were realised

When I couldn’t get one kiss from pissed up caricatures

Pane of glass in my throat

I’m finished, said cup is full of tears now

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