The Accident

this world is a monster and hollow as a heart,
trying to piece the broken parts to ease our hopeless art
you wore me hard and burnt me out but kept me spinning,
this world I lived in was yours and I make believed and pretended,
acted so fucking passive in it like i loved you but actually didn't,
the past gets different when your liven it and actin indifferent,
and when you missing i give a shit instead of counting away minutes
pinning stories on the different women and killing it before it ended,
ain't that tragic when a person doesn't recognize that magic,
a trapeze act of sadness trying to re-spark old habits,
the has beens tend to amplify what happened
so you put on that old mask again and become the accident

you hate to be in love but love the way it feels,
fill the memories like poison as your body starts to wilt,
melt the wax on our wings in the house our ghost built,
while i hold you still and read your skin by the window seal,
like closed books those old looks that fold me onto meat hooks,
where the scene took pause and it dropped my jaw,
while I held your palm till dawn,
i felt so fucking gone and I fell apart a thousand times,
like time flies and I'm out my goddamn mind,
funny memories of symmetry that didn't exist before they were gone,
tricks our head play in the midst of medleys of boredom and alone,
the feeling of someone else at home but not recognizing the ghost,
and we're crazy but prideful patiently spiteful but incredibly absent,
make up on the napkin took away the clown and smeared the passion,
so you put on the old mask again and become the accident.