Fantastis

Stained rooftops, mania. There are no rooms that are empty, just Cells. Tying me to you, an indulgence, really When all I want is to kill myself Do I take you with me? It's not a ride You are already not here anyway I'm holding a thread to a ghost, to an empty space There are spaces, and there are bloodstains Sounds if knives-- my hands stop shaking Tragedy is familiar, in the least. The buzzing a constant I don't need a bed, no sugar The bubblegum pop up loud, clear My flinch an indication I'm here With you There's a part of me reaching forward Reaching towards you But people aren't taught to look at ghosts look at kidnapped wills held by silence. Stained rooftops, mania. Our stories laid out in quiet against the Night. Shows flickering out from the windows of normality. I don't want to be familiar with the sound of knives, don't want to die Don't want to be lost only to find empty rooms with blood on the ceilings There are stories I want you to know Stars I want to look at with you. Candy-- sweet, sick, slick, against your cheeks Your lips, your hands Your fingers Hesitating over my gashes- it's not your fault, angel But I wish I could be pathetic enough to get your attention The streets aren't empty even late at night But everyone is a stranger, everything loud Tears salty. There's no one to call out to Me. To call out to me, to see me fall There's no one to mourn me. I'm glad the thread isn't there to drag you to edge of the rooftop with me tho You-- late, disgruntled, sleepily content Only to see your guilt die (Are you free? I am free Atleast you'll die happy)