raison d'etre

Shoot

me

or 

yourself

to save

this little oily hell

with your sticky smell

and your

swell

well

alright

way of saying goodnight

to sleep tight

on the mattress

where you met me

and forgot me

and lost me all over again

and again

and you’re shouting

amen 

to pretend

that you’re praying at all

cuz the fall

after all

is eternally worth it

so i guess we’ll endure it

and float

in a cloud

or a boat

if that’s allowed

and stare at the naked girls hotter than me

who all could give you quite a lot more than me 

parce que my french is shitty

but you’re my raison d’être 

Baise-moi

if you’re in the mood

but my little fucking heart

can’t really start 

bearing this menage a trois relationship

bullshit

kissing me and missing her

and pretending we 

never were

you’ve got my feelings twirling

like a ballerina

who dropped acid during swan lake

and fell into the orchestra pit

and staked

herself 

naked 

on the accordion’s music stand

and bled until her tutu was gauze

be-caaaaaauze

you just wanna live 2 years behind 

and, sweetheart, you’re blowing my mind. 

Either tell me that you’re holding my hand

or tell me that you’re not. 

Either want me to kiss you every :27

or tell me that you don’t. 

Either say to me “hey we should be” 

or give me the trigger to the shot. 

if you’re feeling poetic 

you should’ve just left it

well enough

all alone

or let me build 

(in your hands)

a little home 

where we can be

all alone

together.