November 08, 2009 - 12:56 a.m.
you're important.
you don''t know shit about me.
- you're a liar, you're a liar, you're a liar.
liar.
Don't you remember your hand touching something soft?
I don't understand the question.
you're a liar, you're a liar.
passing out in the car you come back and i don't know whether you will love me this time, take my hand and tell me
or tell me I don't know the first fucking thing about you, about pain
you will ask me to tell you something real. Ask me about rape. Ask me to explain it to you in detail... and then tell me to stop.
you will accuse me of not knowing
and I don't know what to say.
'you don't give a shit about me'
you're a liar. liar.
different inflections.
You act like I am deliberately avoiding the truth,
- you don't care
and then refuse to give me anything close, except vague angry accusations that make me feel like somehow I was supposed to be the key that unlocked all this.
When I fell asleep, after spilling my guts, puking them out... where was I?
Was it then that I abandoned you?
