
big mad big sad this shit don’t hit like when I was a kid. brand new dress same old stress do i risk the red wine stain or play it safe again? should I let our phones connect or keep ‘em contained, separate? what exactly are you driving at? it’s like my arms and legs move all on their own i might just lose my head if I don’t start showing my medulla oblongata who’s boss. I can breathe (in, out, in, in, hold and out) my heart can beat (thumpa-wump-thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-wump) without the grief without the feed big mad big sad the new shit don’t hit the way it once did. it’s like my tongue and lips commit to the kiss while my eyes and fingertips beg forgiveness for pre-prescribed sins. i can’t breathe my heart can’t beat without the grief without the feed where does the grass end? where do i begin? when i pull the plug it’s twisted up in everything where does the sunshine go will pretty flowers grow in the dull fading light of the warm afterglow? big mad big sad these feelings don’t hit was i really this fucking stupid?