the good that won't come out.

i do this thing where i think i'm real sick, but i won't go to the doctor to find out about it. cause they make you stay real still in a real small space, as they chart up your insides and put them on display. they'd see all of it, all of me, all of it, all of the good that won't come out of me. and all of the stupid lies i hide behind. it's such a big mistake lying here in your warm embrace.

oh, you're almost home. i've been waiting for you to come in. dancing around in your old suits, going crazy in your room again. i think i'll go out and embarass myself by getting drunk and falling down in the street. you say i choose sadness, that it never once has chosen me.
maybe you're right.
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i am well aware of the wrong things in life. i know it's wrong not to eat. i know it's wrong not to feed my fish every day. i know it's wrong to drive twenty miles over the speed limit. i know it's wrong to steal. i know it's wrong to speak without thinking. i know it's wrong to intentionally hurt myself. i know it's wrong to take so many pills. i know it's wrong to purge. i know it's wrong to scream. i know, i know, i know.

i am well aware of the right things though. you'll see it too.