jesse is sleeping 4

tired of my fucking muse
politely i say, please get out of my head
i can't count the adjectives i drew up
to place you
to erase you

i swear that every line i rhymed since i met you
i may have scrawled but you put in place
i swear that every single mistake that i made here
has been some fucked up way of making it through

don't get me wrong
i am crazy
i have always been crazy
but i have never been so in the wrong

god, i thought the drugs i did
left a stamp on my brain
but your's is in invisible ink
i'll never find it
i'll never get back sync

tired of my fucking muse
politely i say, please get out of my head
all the beautiful things i've written of you
they make me sick
they make me confused

when i lay down to sleep
all i feel is those scarred arms
that took away the evil inside
so i get up and paint the walls
a color that will calm the withdraw

you'll only fucking have me
when you cannot fucking have me
but you know you'll always have me
reluctant lover

that's why the beautiful things
they make me sick
they make me confused
you make me confused

my fucking muse
oh, look
i've made another poem out of you

venus/shiva

She lied when she said I love you
To a handful of boys she knew
She saw in their eyes what she felt before
But could not seem to renew
At least six eyes, so soulful and wide
She could not help but turn away
For she was committing the ultimate crime
But still, she cries

Tied up to her ankles
Following her steps
She dragged them down the stairwell
Never cutting the heel's noose

They bruise their skin to black and blue
Until they break their necks

The Venus, the Shiva
Severing the cord too late
The little boys gaze at their savior
With eyes full of hate
But still, she weeps

Full of regret

She will never know who she was trying to save
The poor little boys who revered the goddess
Or the goddess herself