a quiet house.
back in my rightful place waiting for some sort of surprise, i suppose. i need something to happen, to tell me i'm home again, to let me know that it will still be here if i leave again.
so tell me, will you still be here if i decide to go? i want you to drop by, have a smoke, kiss the bottle, and stare at the wall with me. we've only got so much time, and i've only spent this much waiting for you. i've only got two hands for you.
i'm running on empty here, no sleep, no food, and about half a glass of water. i had a jack and coke about four hours ago, and caffeine is still riding me. i think it's starting to make me smile.
are you scared now? do you see me in my weak moments and shudder at the thought? have you even thought about how the rooms in my head are dusty with choice?
the wind is starting to blow, baby. leaves are screaming, and it's sixty eight degrees here in local time.
did you choose this? is your voice deeper and your hair darker? do you watch me fall asleep at night with only a pillow in my arms? how do they like you out there?
the music stopped. her skin is crawling in the small breeze of the window pane. i can only hear you sing in the wind chimes.
someone come surprise me.
