(no subject)
it's all wrapped up
in the way we should have been
only slightly in the way
of what we really are
we were never
fire hiding behind closed doors
burning at the top of the stairs
more like clocks
dressed up
wound down and
waiting on the future
pitching new ideas in hushed tones
strangely beautiful
and oh so
fucking
tiresome
darling
it's just 12 easy steps
to self-immolation
if we never take any chances
then we can never die
in some horrible accident
to be talked about for years to come
and that's a shame
such
a shame
what a lovely day for an excuse