Citrus Sit. Rep.
April 7th, 2014

Track and field thoughts – you’ve been running through my mind all day,
and it hit me like a shot put when I watched you run-the-fuck-away.
Yeah, you never stopped running out of ways to ruin my mood,
and you stay so serene as I sit and bitch and brood.

Sitting up not sleeping for the shitty day ahead,
no, I’m incessantly investigating a case that’s long dead.
Long-range scans don’t detect shit through this debris,
and I don’t know how to deal with damage of this degree.

I wish just once we’d both stay out of my head,
but instead I’m up nightly wishing I were comatose or dead,
or wishing you and I had never met at all,
‘cause I’ve never been the same since the end of that fall.

Oh this 8-bit beating heart is flashing faster as I fall;
I’ll never see the kill screen – I can’t see anything at all.
My H.U.D. fades, followed by the loss of all my blood,
waves of memories overwhelm me as I flail – impaled in the flood.

You don’t know how I go great lengths to get away,
or how futile it is, ‘cause it really hits me when I lay.
Yeah, when my head hits the pillow the potent past is oh so present,
but as painful as it is, I find it partially pleasant.

Lucid lullaby that never seems to lull;
but it slips out my lips and never ceases in my skull.
Yeah, the boy you’d sway sure got away – what a day to remember,
just like the ending embrace which burned my heart like an ember,

A madman’s monologue about missing much more than just a girl,
but I’ve got Memorex memories to bring me back to our little world.