BETRAYAL

that if you wait really long to push the lever during the ashley or josh decision, josh gets an extra fragment of dialogue when pleading with Chris:

“I know… I know we haven’t been the best of friends lately… and I’ve been kinda messed up and everything…but I’m getting better, man, I swear…”

Some days I see your reflection on knife surfaces

and I have to stop myself from swallowing the blade whole.

Every pill downed is another day I stay sane, and you kiss

the bitter aftertaste from my mouth.

You’re asking for ways to fit

in the moaning cavern of my body

and I want to say

don’t try to fill me, just stay, please,

just stay.

  I’ve been kissing depression’s death-lust lips for years now

and it’s odd to find how soft making love can be with you.

For too long, I have known arms for cutting,

but never for holding.

  I have a bad habit of comparing lovers, and you’ve complained

that I talk about this “depression” too much.

I get distracted by the taste of razorblades and Prozac pills,

and I spend a lot of time curled up on window sills,

wondering if impact is the same as orgasm.

You think that there is too much sad and not enough sex,

but I don’t want to make love when depression

is at the foot of our bed, watching for when my back arches

and my toes curl.

You don’t understand that you cannot fill my aching chasms.

  I’m writing reminders for you, spelling out

don’t try to fix me

across your strong shoulders.

You held me after my first balancing act,

stumbling back from the rooftop into your arms,

and promised you’d make all the sadness go away.

You were always taught depression could be fucked out,

but your whispers of beautiful just remind me

that I’m feeling twisted on the inside.

  You cannot carry all this empty.

And all the people say, “You can’t wake up, this is not a dream, You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being, With your face all made up, living on a screen, Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline.” - Gasoline, Halsey