just talk

It’s all just talk. I know I said my apathy is a mask, but hit me and I will sound hollow. Hollow brain, hollow heart. Cheap Easter chocolate that tastes like wax and has walls so thin they shatter with a punch. Don’t call me stupid when you know that’s why you like me. Don’t say that I love you just because I text you in the morning. Anything’s better than boredom.

No sense of rhythm. Can’t sing, can’t fuck, can’t keep me in a good mood. My shoes are too small but squeeze into them anyway. You should be in pain for once. It’s easy to make your life sound hard when it’s nine hundred miles away. I hope you know I don’t believe anything you say. Keep salt rocks by my bed to lick every time you speak. You’re not the only one with fucked up friends, things weren’t always like they are now.

You can’t dress and you can’t speak my language, but somehow my clothes are always off and your mouth is always open. Shut the fuck up sometimes. Don’t talk to everyone. Do you know what your priorities are, or am I just not one of them? It’s hard to care all the time. I wore apathy like a face mask but it’s melting into my skin. Tomorrow I might wake up and it’s all soaked in, no fucks left in my bloodstream.

Nine hundred and fifty nine is not a prime number. Biprime, which suits you — could’ve been perfect but can’t shut up, could’ve had a girl but you want two. You look so ugly when you’re caught in a lie. I could never fall in love with you.

Just talk, don’t cry about it.