hope.

i guess i'll run it until the phone battery's dead

i never could imagine how fast the wheels could spin in my head

and yet the thoughts blend together in a graying haze

somewhere in there i've lost those better days

it's hard to wish the sun would come up again

when i'm constantly standing on the edge of an end

and the aftermath's the same in every way

but i'll still hope for those better days

someone once sang to me that everything's not lost

my heart, it hurts, because life deals in pricey costs

the greener grass never keeps vibrant color

life tries to talk to me but all my ears translate is mutter

it's foolish now to hope to pursue a different way

until then, my friend, i'll just hope for better days

the numbness sets in like the sun in a fiery blaze

while i sit, a slave, chained to hope for better days.

Stupid Girl. Pretty Girl - which is you and which is me?

how i wish i could be you.

you're so lovely.

and so perfect.

the very glow of your beauty

drowns out everything else

until i haven't any oxygen.

you Bitch.

i'm dying and you're immortal.

i don't have naturally blood red lips

unless i cut myself

and let the red flow freely.

maybe i can imitate.

but it won't ever be the same.

my curves are lines.

yours are windy roads

en route to a vacation

i can never be invited to.

Fuck you.

girls like you don't see a ring,

but i will.

because i'm the girl guys marry.

you're the girl they fantasize about

and leave when they are done.

i'll be the rock 

he anchors to to settle.

it's more than a chore.

yet, i wish i could wear that face,

rip the ends neatly

so it looks real.

plastic face, real body.

how ugly.

how enticing.

x's over my eyes.

he'll never know the difference.

in fact,

i'll be you for halloween.

maybe then he'll notice - 

they all will.

and we'll kiss before we know

each other's names,

and wake up to each other in the

morning haze of regret...

but not really.

because that's how it is.

that's who we become 

when we wear the mask;

that halloween mask;

smells like perfume,

looks like perfection.

but underneath it's nothing more.

it's nothing perfect.

it's all but extraordinary.

it's me, in the flesh, in the wound.

in my own personal hell of 

everything i'm not,

and everything i'll never be.

Stupid Girl. Pretty Girl.

which is you and which is me?

Everything I'm Not Girl - 

might i borrow your face for halloween?