A muddled mess of creaky bones and a pulsing, slimy muscle of emotion are what carry me through this life. It’s a struggle at best, but never a fight. It’s never been about a soul or dreams to follow. My words come out deep and my motives drown shallow. I’m always gonna take a back seat when push comes to shove. Every day that I live to see is some degree of pain and some shade of unrequited love. That’s all. I wish there was more to it than that, but I can’t and won’t lie to you. I stopped fretting about the day I would say goodbye to you.
I guess I took it too literally when someone told me that, hey, nothing matters. I died and rotted right into their ways before the glass had a chance to shatter. I could have broken free. I could have lived for you instead of dying for me. But I was a selfish one, crazed by another one, and I hit you like a shot to the head. I was only seeing red. And that’s when I saw the fork in his tongue and the horns through his hair. I realized I’d worked with the devil, and in true demon fashion, I didn’t care.
But it wasn’t for a rush or a reward or rank. I nipped at your ankles to make you run away. You deserve better than this or hell or me. But out of nowhere came a snap and I was suddenly free. Awake with a start, sheets drenched in sweat, and creaky old bones not ready for another day just yet. So I don’t know how to say it or show it or prove that it’s true. I may have sold my soul, but my heart still beats for you.