I stick to my sheets like failed reproduction Soaking up on slowing down and the only thing Worse than being alone is when I'm not alone. I am in love with what I've lost. I do not want what I have got. I release my weakness that flies feed from. It never is anything until it's over. Nothing is right but I can't find the wrong. I always change my mind. And if there is a need then I need it now. Cause the closer we get the further I feel. All of my love is collecting dust. I'm shivering with loneliness. An uncomfortable routine of staying Somewhere in between lost and found.