strangely dismayed about things that never change
strangely uncomfortable with the weight of things
i can't run anymore because it makes me want to die
here i ran nowhere just to get nowhere
just to make it hurt and feel less hollow
there were things i didn't want to think about then
and now i'm here and they're all i can hear
you stay away long enough to come back
and know you didn't get any better anyway
and it was all an illusion
because when you hate yourself is when it's real
and how did you ever survive this kind of life
when the life you've had recently has not been easy
and you come here and you want to die
because it is so much harder just to breathe sometimes
and you didn't even run
(the railway station announcements remind of long summers
made of cigarettes and midnight walks and endless breakdowns
and restless legs in a hot train and the smiling sun
that i carved on my skin
and the people)
