The days are getting longer but the heat still burns my eyes and the bands always sound better from the bathroom or your side of my bed, through the mattress, through the box-spring and the pillows, up the pipes from the basement. My head is filled with awful things my mouth tries not to say. Kids clog up the kitchen, keep the hell out of my way. I am not well. This is not okay. Now I'm wasted, so don't take a word sent your way seriously.
I know you're lonely. I know I'm not. I am sorry if you forgot. You are lonely, but mostly I'm not. I'm sorry that I kissed her... I guess I forgot.
I hate the way I'm made up / curse the year that I was born. I trusted you to change me, but now I'm worse off than before. This fever that won't quit me leaves me anything but pure. It's a plague with no name. Your cough is still the only cold that I could never catch. Your lips are still the only ones that I could never kiss. I made a promise to myself that I would stop acting like this. But I can't pretend that you're worthless. No, I can't pretend that you're worthless.