Love grows in me like a tumor,
parasite bent on devouring its host.
I'm developing my sense of humor,
till I can laugh at my heart between your teeth,
till I can laugh at my face beneath your feet.
Skillet on the stove; its such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the lucky one that doesnt get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Love plows through me like a dozer,
I've got more give than a bale of hay,
and there's always a big mess left over.
What did you do?What did you say?
Skillet on the stove is such a temptation,
maybe I'll be the special one that doesnt get burned.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Love tears me up like a demon.
Opens the wounds and then fills them with lead,
and I'm having some trouble just breathing.
If we werent such good friends I think that I'd hate you.
If we weren't such good friends I'd wish you were dead.
Oh it's so embarrasing
I'm this awkward and uncomprable thing,
and I'm running out of places to hide it
I'm running out of places to hide it...
--Jenny Owen Youngs
1 comment:
Love grows in me like a tumor,
parasite bent on devouring its host.
Sounds like early Dorthy Parker. Pepto Bizmol sounds like just the thing for that achy stomach host.
Love ya. Dad
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