I Envy

I'm glad I have friends that have taste.

I don't really understand how artists can put really sad lyrics to gross pop. The kind of music that will play on the radio and people will listen to it with all the windows rolled down and screaming. I mean, these artists impress me. They seem so sad and yet they put their heart out there, ya know?

I wish my throat didn't bubble up when I try to hit the high note, so that if I screamed, it seems like a much more fit way of talking my demons down.

I wish I was more afraid of God than my demons. I wish I didn't even give demons any credit. They like it when I fear them. Your deepest suffering glares at you with beady eyes, surfacing the night, all stealthy in the fog. They're sorta waiting to crawl towards you and you won't even see them because you can't really see that well.

I'm jealous of the one that makes the black and white keys on a piano soaking wet.

It's maddening when you can't articulate yourself and you keep punching yourself in the eye because you can't speak or see.