In Lieu of Ghosts - Stitched To Pieces

I shake these insecurities and scratch away my skin. Close my eyes, bite deep until I bleed again. I know I’m never too good to remember, but you’ll never forget. NEVER FORGET. The taste of it still lingers on nights strewn with hearts on fire. I cross my heart and hope to live. (It’s a disease, I’m sure, but I’m sick anyway.) This passion is violent, the way love repents. And darkness closes in on me while I’m in daylight. I CAN’T SEE. But I’m open to your opinion. I can’t strand this imagination on ancient shores. They crash to me like ghosts, like demons drunk on moonshine. Freedom is another word we made up… but forgot to put meaning behind it. I’VE STITCHED MYSELF TO SO MANY PIECES I’M BOUND TO UNRAVEL EVENTUALLY! Will you sew me back up? Or have you given up? On this jigsaw puzzle (this broken puzzle, this broken puzzle…) It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten the words. Forgotten what any of them meant. I’M SO ALONE IT DOESN’T MATTER, DOES IT?! So alone. So alone. Does it matter? …Does it?