My problem
I would like everything as it is in my head
I would like to be perfect for you
The dissapointment of this impossibility renders me insane
Ripping and scaring my diseased, decaying brain
My thought organ does nothing but think of you
And taking a knife to my own face
And boiling hot water on blotchy white skin
And bowie singing Time
"But all i have to give is guilt for dreaming"
"We should be on by now"