Tight

Across the room is a happier universe,

and I'm being exiled,

and I'm being shipped off,

and the next space station is familiar

and a prison.

Across the room is a king with power,

and he's fought many wars.

He decided to send the princess packing.

I didn't need the guillotine to bleed—

I never saw the sword coming.

I never saw the sentencing,

but knew the steps that sent me.

I cannot breathe,

I cannot scream,

I cannot bear to live—

but I must.

I must.

Wasn't I a person before him?

Sweet confusion

Sweet confusion

For kisses,

For affection,

For closed off feelings

And leaving the room when I enter.

For occupying one last week

And realizing—

you can't fix anything.

Damn.

I built an ocean that evaporated,

I churned the illness

and turned it sweeter with food.

I made love to pride,

and decided to live for myself.

Without him,

Aren't I still a person?

Across the room is a happier universe,

and I hate to see it progress.

I hate to let it go,

I hate that I fell in love,

and he's promising I'll be back.

Across the room is a man

happily marching to freedom

and being coldly cordial

and showing me I won't be missed

and making fun of one last week,

one confusion at a time.

I wish,

I wish,

I wish that I could lose my human self

and scream one good time:

Bloody, painful, hurt murder.

I wish that I could be my broken self

and stop acting like I'm gonna maintain.