Sick

Sick of always feeling like I'm out of breath

Sick of never ever having anything left

Sick of being in the red

Sick of sleeping in my own bed

Sticking to this feeling of eternal rest

Sticking this proboscis deep into my chest

Slipping off the path

Should have went right when I went left

Sick of being sick of being tired of myself

I try not but nothing helps

My lungs begin to swell

And with that breath I tell myself

That I don't need anybody else

Thinking about sinking down beneath your skin

Holding your heart in my whole arms grip

Pull me apart when you feel your heartbeat skip

Wishing I was missing something that really exists

Wishing that your essence was a pressence I could kiss

Wishing I could stop

Wishing for what I wanted all the time

Sick of being sticky sick of feeling empty sick of always

Lying to myself

That I can love someone else