1 - november pain

hold on a sec, just need some rest and relapsation from this pace that's such a maze and gotta keep the music playing so i can't hear the sounds always emanating from your room at the end of the hall, the sex and the crying and all the phone calls, the goodnight fuck and the judas-miss. my fistfight luck that you dismiss. just wish i wasn't in stasis, in places that her memory erases. drowning in bathtubs that won't drain, sounding off dead loves that don't stain. it's enough to make you stop and think and drop and drink your way to the floor on the way out the door. go ahead. call me a whore again. i'm just in it for the rent money. my landlord can't fix this dent but he can give me those weary looks i was wearily looking for. swallow these teary rooks. what was she really looking for?