Anything short of.

I'd say I care too deeply, far too much, actually, but I doubt that would mean anything to you. You place me up against par, comparing, watching, silently biding time seeing how I fall short. Always. Well, you should still know, the last time was a mistake, and that I care, I care, I care, and I'm here, always. We're fucking immaculate.

This screams 'erase this space' .

(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?

He says,

'You promise a great show, a great one, and I'm falling

'You could be moonshine, you smell just like strawberry fields, and you are scrumptious, so I can just cut you up, cut you to the bone, see it all dissolve around you

'Your arms are always wide open, and you're warm, so vulnerable, and so foolish

'You promise a great show, and you can be elevated, put up on that pedestal as a great replacement

--
She says,

'You draw comparisons and ask me to choose, to choose, and I cannot think, because you will not speak enough, just enough to cloud my judgment, never enough

'I never wished to speak, never to promise, for fear I would speak too much, and you will not stand it, but you violate our code, and jump the borders -

'The moon sinks so low, oh-so-low it breaks my heart, because it's so surreptitious and you do nothing to stop it

'His whisper taints my judgment, and you can no longer twist it, in your ungodly manner, not that you have reserved even that for me

'They always undermine heartfelt confessions, and you're no different

'You let me fall and slide into disintegration, and I can see it all dissolve around me, while she falls around you

Fixate

Peter-out, you, peter-out.
Your relentless rain-tirade
Cripples me, and I am soaked
My prison of misery, you cannot wash away.
Eyes peeled-open, eroded, gaping holes
Watch the shimmering tide of bullets
Pierce through her soul, their brains.
Watch them stripped, boiling souls
Reduced, ah look down upon them!
Devoid of their dreams and scrubbed
Pure, finally, in your condemning eyes.
Come! It is Your spectacle,
Watch it explode, and
Careen out of proportions.

Conform

You must make the song yours

His voice...
'It's round,' she says, and you can see the smile on her face, hear the crinkle in her eye.


You are SO two-dimensional.

Julia.

I won't feed the cat, I'm tired. Very tired, leave me be.

It is not my fault, if I could change how you feel, I have tried, and you're everything to me. So I don the black (it is not mandatory), and I will be a part of your hymns, and the procession, and I will fight the crowd to squeeze your hand, and I'll give you my songs, and I will let it wash over me when you kiss her brow, when you don't let go of her, when the start to pull you away, because it borders on everybody's comfort zone, when I would have said, have it your way, when I would have laughed, because this is yours to call, they should not dictate this.

Leave me be, I cannot indulge in petty pleasures, they sag me, they bring me down oh-so-terribly.

There is time, only so much time, so please, please let me make use of it. She won't be okay, she can't be okay. And Julia didn't look like she was sleeping, and I did not have to fight the urge to break into mirthless laughter.

'...a hole which nothing can fill,' she said.

Too much has changed, I cannot, I have not yet grown accustomed to, and when I dream, it only clutters everything further. (believe it or not) I miss the empty space in my head I threw away. And these chronicles, they only make you play against it, and your slow chiding won't win me over, nor if you force it down my throat. I'm mellow, melancholy, and I try to cope, and I can only imagine what she will try to do.

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you, Julia.

Julia, Julia, oceanchild, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia
Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia.

Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering
In the sun.

Julia, Julia, morning moon, touch me
So I sing a song of love, Julia.