Friends

135 pounds and not one ounce of trust. I've lost all reasons to believe.

"A '63, 10,000 miles.
What was I thinking?
I drove myself insane.
No small getaway.
Asleep with both hands on the wheel.
White knuckle weekend.
Chewing ephedrine.
Going to an unnamed end.
Unending...

We met in rain, you asked me in.
Seemed like a good sign.
Now I need a guillotine
to get you off my mind.
I brush my teeth until they break.
Until I start bleeding.
So when I smile I'll know
I'm almost good enough for you.
And would you...

Follow me to the end of the dare.
Raise your eyes, return the stare.
Become your words. Your words so becoming.
On any Sunday I'll be there.

I tried to drink you off my mind.
I just got wasted.
It only made the pain
that much more acute.
But cute isn't strong enough a word.
Unintentionally gorgeous.
An accidental charm.
A graceful drinking arm.
Disarming...

Follow me to the end of the dare.
Raise your eyes, return the stare.
Become your words. Your words so becoming.
On any Sunday I'll be there."

Coffee in my cup on this cold tuesday night, coffee for the good morning tired eyes.
I've got a broken sleep pattern, and unsual circumstances have been known to
arise from such entities. The grounds I have been known to stand on have
deteriated into fine nothings of this earth. Where have everyone's morals gone?
OR have I just lost my own in a world of acception.