this infection

I am one of the haunted here.
I walk down the hall with my
dead face on
and grasp at the sides of the walls.

It gives me something to hold on to.
This flatness eats away at me
until I am weak
in its wake.

Oh how the silence grows.
It really goes to show just how
desperate you would have to
be just to get here.
It is too quiet, and we all wear the same
dead look in our eyes.

And we don't acknowledge each other
as we walk by.

But I myself am the queen.
I am the one whom the elements call
with a shriek. See how I
twist the bare wires to form
a perfect heart.

It beats when it's placed in your hand.
They do not understand that
I am the one who appears by
your bed and in the mirror.
I am kept on the shelf

but I am here for something else,
and I grow as dead as the ones
I am near.

Royalty in a locked ward,
there is something in my eye.
Oh I am alive but I am
not pieced together quite right.

Something has to be done
or I'll never get out of this place.

I didn't commit any crime.
If it was you, what would you do?
I only took back what was mine.

I want you to tell me the truth,
if you were in the state I'm in
and got sent to the quiet room

you'd take it out upon your skin.
You'd try and swallow all the pills
or starve yourself til you were thin.

You can't see health when you are ill.
I know, I've been there. I have tried.
It didn't work. My only skill

is taking back what once was mine.
I didn't commit any crime.

Nine hours in a crisis room
will fuck a little with your head.
You know you won't be let out soon,
you start to wish that you were dead
and take back everything you said -
"What, kill myself? I've never tried
to hang myself in someone's shed."
I fall as quickly as I fly.

I was admitted. I was doomed
to repeat patterns cast in red.
I cannot take these shifts of mood,
I'd rather take the pain instead.
Admitted once they found a bed
and labeled "failed suicide",
it fills me with a kind of dread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.

Upon release, the trees had bloomed.
In the morning, I was fed
then discharged in the afternoon.
The only thing that I had left
was a sort of small regret
that in the end, I went and lied
and gave a different sobriquet.
I fall as quickly as I fly.

Bandages and tourniquets
are just one way I exorcise
the way I feel. I'm bound in thread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.

Things got bad inside my head.
I relapsed, so who gives a fuck?
I'm still alive. I am not dead
because I chose to make a cut
but just one cut is not enough.
I've gone too far, I've crossed the line.
My arms - the skin is coarse and rough.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.

This need in me, it must be fed.
I did not tell the ones I trust.
I chose to cut my arms instead,
I don't know why they make a fuss
when I need stitches just to shut
the depth of harm. It's not a crime
to take the pain, it's just self-love.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.

To speak of it fills me with dread.
It shows my caliber of luck
when I am pieced back up with thread
because my sharps were full of rust.
It fills me with a sort of lust
every single fucking time
I cut or bleed, when I throw up
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.

I didn't lie. I only said
I would not give up what was mine.
I'm only calm when I have bled.
I fake a smile and swear I'm fine.

When you left me, you left me for dead.
When you came back, the sheets were red.
Every word you said were lies -
you left me and I still survived.

Everything happened just so fast -
you left me and the stone was cast.
With all the blood that I have spent,
you'd think that I was heaven sent.

How I woke up, I don't know.
I grabbed the thread and started to sew
and by the time the sun came up
I'd stitched together all my cuts.

When I awoke, I awoke in bed,
the lightbulb, cracked, above my head.
I closed my eyes and tried to soothe
myself. The white walls of my room

have always brought me peace of mind,
the way my pictures are assigned
a certain space upon the wall -
but I think of you and I start to fall.

And I am humbled. I am awed
with just how much you find me flawed.
Your expectations were too high
so when you left, I swore I'd die.

It's easier to just give up -
a little slit, a little cut.
When you left me, you left me for dead
but I awoke. I lived instead.

I'm all dolled up. My hair is long,
and I'm a slut - but just for you.
I sing the songs of all the swans

beneath a tree with gnarled roots.
The birds nest gentle in my hair,
I fold myself in solitude.

But when I look up, you are there.
You take my hand and we walk home.
I used t o quake when I was scared

that you would leave me all alone.
The northern star, I wished upon
that you would keep me as your own.

We had a secret all along -
we fuck without a condom on.

You want to know just what you took?
When not in use, I'm in a box.
You cannot see the dirty look
I give you when you turn the lock.
I have no clothes. I've only socks.
I'm not quite sure how you can't see
that being in here is a shock.
Just give me back the fucking key.

Your voice has always been a hook,
I always liked the way you talked.
You took my queen with just your rook
and then you made me suck your cock.
You didn't see I was a rock
when I was small between your knees.
All that's left are leaves and stalks.
Just give me back the fucking key.

I could be in the smallest nook -
you'd watch me like you were a hawk.
There's nothing wrong with reading books,
there's nothing wrong with taking walks
or hiding when it gets too hot.
But I am she who haunts your dreams.
You have me in a tricky spot.
Just give me back the fucking key.
You have to own this. You have bought
and now possess this part of me,
but there's one way that this can stop -
Just give me back the fucking key.

If I could only count the times
when I declared that I had quit.
To relapse is a sort of crime.
You know, it makes me fucking sick
that you are such a hypocrit.
I thought that you would understand -
I chase the thrill. I need the hit
but nothing ever goes as planned.

You say that I am weak of spine
because I need to have my fix.
I said that I'd be home at nine,
you said I'd better make it six.
I don't care for your little tricks,
the way you take and then demand.
When I am down, you get your kicks
but nothing ever goes as planned.

At last I ran into the pines,
the hiding place that I had picked.
I think that everything's a sign,
I glorify and worship sticks
and form another cicatrix -
my inner drama's just so grand.
I try to form my private myths
and nothing ever goes as planned.

It really was a little slit.
you wouldn't care if it's a brand.
I'm trying to get over it
but nothing ever goes as planned.

August 18th marked seventeen years
since my first stay in hospital.
It's always been my biggest fear

that I'd somehow forget it all.
The months, they passed. The seasons changed.
Before I knew it, it was fall

and time was funny. Time was strange.
I only hoped that I'd fit in,
that I could learn to play the game

that I could wear a hollow grin
and fit in with the patients here.
But I was odd and I was thin.

I swear to god, I was sincere.
I saved so many souvenirs.

Inside of me there is a hole
as deep and black as any pit.
The truth is, that my only goal
is finding something that will fit
and somehow fit inside of it
so that I am no longer bare.
It makes me mad enough to spit,
I end up pulling out my hair.

I didn't lie. I never stole.
I only pierced my bottom lip
in an attempt to fix my soul -
reactions are a brutal hit.
It startles me and then I trip.
It shouldn't matter, I don't care
if you don't like the way I strip.
I end up pulling out my hair.

I chase the high when I am low.
I do it for the thrill of it.
I like to take off all my clothes
in front of strangers. Here's a tip -
desire's something you can skip
if everyone just stops and stares.
It makes me want to gouge and rip.
I end up pulling out my hair.

I do not have a solid grip
on all the things that brought me here.
I'm confused. There is a split.
I end up pulling out my hair

The ghost who haunts inside my room
has been there for a hundred years.
I tried to hit it with a broom,

it hit back. I burst into tears.
I wish it lived some other place
that was far away from here.

I've never even seen its face.
It rattles doors and bangs on walls.
I keep the lights on, just in case

but all this fear has scared me small.
It killed the flowers, they don't bloom.
I fall down to my knees and crawl

but there's a certain type of doom
the ghost brings, and it won't leave soon.

I carry in me such a rage
which begs and pleads to be let out.
If I just had a different name

I could ignore the way it shouts,
I'd close the door and lock it shut.
You'd never find my whereabouts,

I'd be the girl who does not cut.
If I was renamed Isabel
I'd be the girl who is a slut.

I'd be the girl who does it well.
I'd still be wild. I'm not tame.
There are some things I'll never tell,

I swear I wouldn't be the same
if I just had a different name.

the tides roll over angry shores
i close my eyes and shut my mouth
everything is such a bore

i sometimes think of going south
i need to get away from home
you need to know that i'm about

going places all alone
that way no one talks to me
i am as silent as a stone

when no one's there to watch me grieve
talking sometimes is a chore
leave me alone just let me be

if you come by and ask for more
i'll shut you out and slam the door

Sometimes it`s either fight or flight.
I don`t see why I should explain.
You wouldn`t understand my plight,
what I would go through if I stayed
and someone called me by my name.
I wouldn`t be in any shape
to answer calmly - I`m untame.
There`s something wrong. I must escape.

When someone has me in their sight
I often want to get away.
I`m cursed with being too polite,
I know the perfect thing to say
and act as though I`m in a play,
but I grow cold when I am taped.
I often react out of shame.
There`s something wrong. I must escape.

There`s many things that I don`t like.
it`s mostly silence that I crave.
I take my pleasure out of spite,
I scratch your back and spit your name
then leave stage right and go downstage.
There`s nothing left for you to take -
if I should leave, why should you blame?
There's something wrong. I must escape.

If I'm not there, it's all the same.
My presence shouldn't make or break.
If I stay here, I'll go insane.
There's something wrong. I must escape.

i am not even thirty three
i am already getting old
and i am losing all my teeth

i really thought we had agreed
that i would never become old
i am not even thirty three

my rings mark age much like a tree
mind tend to rust the more i grow
and i am losing all my teeth

i'm rootless i have yet to seed
it will not bloom i am too cold
i am not even thirty three

i am that girl yes i am she
who fakes her way among the bold
and i am losing all my teeth

i fell down and i skinned my knee
i hold too close the things i know
i am not even thirty three
and i am losing all my teeth

i smoke because i hate myself.
it came by chance or circumstance -
you came and took me off the shelf.

it really is an odd romance,
it keeps me buried in my head
and leaves me in a kind of trance.

i'll carry this until i'm dead.
sometimes i wander and get lost,
i always leave a trail of bread.

i'm coming home at any cost.
i once was in declining health -
when it was bad, they called the cops.

prescriptions lend a certain wealth,
i'll pay with them and nothing else.

i am the girl who has split into two
my pieces are scattered all over the ground
i am the girl that you wish that you knew
you are the treasure that i've never found
i searched through the trees without making a sound
upon us lights the same bright star
although we live in different towns
i am the crack in the broken jar

when i came back i was black and blue
i held my breath and then i drowned
my uneasiness it grew
and then they stripped me of my crown
because i was of mind unsound
they plucked the feathers and boiled the tar
the coil has been tightly wound
i am the crack in the broken jar

the gnarled branches of the yew
have never failed to astound
the years that i have spent with you
are something that i regret now
although i bend and take my bow
before i'm ushered to the car
i look up and i see an owl
i am the crack in the broken jar

upon my face there is a scowl
when you assume that i'll go far
my lips are grimaced in a howl
i am the crack in the broken jar

i curl up on the windowsill
i hide it but i'm full of rage
i'm only in it for the thrill
i never really act my age
you've gone and put me in a cage
i gave it up i am not free
i met you after seven days
you've gone and sunk your hooks in me

when i cut i aim to kill
my scars are something that amaze
i do it til i've had my fill
i took you in you were a strat
i only want to keep you safe
i'll hide you underneath the trees
but it's really not okay
you've gone and sunk your hooks in me

it takes a certain type of skill
to make sure that the debt it paid
when i wake up i take my pills
i memorize each single page
then act my part upon the stage
sometimes i forget to breathe
they always said that i was strange
you've gone and sunk your hooks in me

you say i won't i say i will
you say let's not i say let's see
these obligations aren't fulfilled
you've gone and sunk your hooks in me

we stare at the sun through the crack in the trees
my fingers touch yours as i reach for the joint
you like me the best when i'm down on my knees

i've been swallowed up by the terrible sea
the blue of it washes and gently anoints
we stare at the sun through the crack in the trees

i ache for the things that you did to me
you bought me with only a handful of coins
you like me the best when i'm down on my knees

you can't say that i don't try hard to please
i pirouette idly, i balance en point
we stare at the sun through the crack in the trees

i really did love you, you have to believe
i was head over heels for some stupid boy
you like me the best when i'm down on my knees

you are allergic to the sting of the bee
it fills me, i fester with some bitter joy
we stare at the sun through the crack in the trees
you like me the best when i'm down on my knees

There`s a lie on the wall.
There`s a lie on the wall and I
can`t get it down,
nor can I pry it off.

It stays there, eight inches
over my head and prevents
me from forgetting who
put it there.

It`s all i can see.
Soon, it will fill the whole room and
push me out.

I may live beneath a bridge,
oh anything to get away
but the words, they are set in stone
and they will not go away.
I will have to go home and live
with them for another day.

I light the matches one by one.
The lie on the wall has been
told by your son,

although you are long dead.
Only he and I remain,
and I wear his name over
everything that I do.
I wait, and he waits too.

We do not make a sound.
I will burn this place
into the ground
to get away from any hated word
that you say, but

my skin takes the place of my walls
and the lie remains.
It has nowehere else to stay.
It has carved itself into my head and
it will not go away.

There is no other way
around it. I will have to
pluck out my heart.
I will give it to you,
although god only knows what you
will do when you`re holding it
in your large hands,

but it will do.
It is enough for me.
My heart bleeds, and you trick
the lies into three because
you want to make sure that they
live with me too

but there is nothing I can do.
I love you.

I charge my men for every show,
it doesn't matter what they bring.
It doesn't matter what they owe
as long as it's an offering.
They know I'll accept anything
that strikes the fancy of my eye -
a pearl, a pin, a piece of string.
These are the things that get me by.

I'm sure you really want to know
how I got started in this thing.
It wasn't much to undergo,
I'm taking orders from the king
in hopes that I will wear his ring
and gain affection when he's by.
I shudder and extend my wings.
These are the things that get me by.

I would have thought that I'd outgrow
this constant need for wandering.
I need to run, I need to go -
it often gets quite tiring.
This need, it leaves me wondering.
I ran through thorns and scratched my thigh
and now my skin begins to sting -
these are the things that get me by.

I am the bird that cannot sing,
I am the girl that doesn't cry.
I put on shows, it's disgusting.
These are the things that get me by.

How can i tell you the things that i crave?
I know that you think my life is on track
but I soon start to ache for the song of the blade.

You can't say that I don't know how to behave
but when I was gone you stabbed me in the back.<
How can I tell you the things that I crave?

I lied when I told you that I was okay.
I called you but you moved in for the attack.
I soon start to ache for the song of the blade.

You said I was pretty when I had obeyed.
You looked at me odd and then told me to pack.
How can I tell you the things that I crave?

This is my offering, the gift that I gave.
It's not a surprise, that compassion you lack.
I soon start to ache for the song of the blade.

I've lived most of my adult life as a slave.
I no longer wear white. I only wear black.
how can i tell you the things that i crave?
i soon start to ache for the song of the blade.

when i go too long without seeing you
and things don`t go the way i planned
i turn all different shades of blue

my feelings for you, they grew and grew
i instinctively reach out for your hand
when i go too long without seeing you

i felt like i was sick with the flu
the day that you gave me a reprimand
i turned all different shades of blue

i`m not quite sure what i should do
i bury myself to the neck in the sand
when i go too long without seeing you

no one really has a clue
i don`t think that anyone understands
that i turn all different shades of blue

the ones who know are very few
the way you are, the way i am
when i go too long without seeing you
i turn all different shades of blue

I am viscous, I've been bled.
I gouge at eyes and shriek at skin.
My best friend is the tourniquette,
I take my pride in mortal sin
and idolize the weak and thin.
To save myself, i hide in lies -
I always leave them questioning.
I am the girl who cannot fly.

I am the muted. I walk instead
among the ones who fake their grins.
I am the monster beneath the bed,
I'll gladly rip off all my limbs
and pierce myself with safety pins
as long as I can stay inside.
You want to know how it begins?
I am the girl who cannot fly.

I scream in silence in my head.
My fear is often genuine
that I will someday end up dead,
that I am not the heroine.
I must admit, to my chagrin
I'm easy to provoke to cry.
The pool is deep enough to swim.
I am the girl who cannot fly.

If I am a jar, then there's nothing within.
I don't believe in the word goodbye
because if I did then I'd never see him.
I am the girl who cannot fly.

underneath this wretched sky
i spread my wings and hope to fly
drip the feathers black with tar
i was born beneath a curséd star

there`s a witch who lives inside my head
she wishes she was me instead
she doesn`t know what i wish for
is to be wicked just like her

some people say it`s now or never
i think that i will live forever
a cicatrice is just a scar
i look for love in strangers cars

i tend to block out anything
that doesn`t directly affect me
it`s possible to get away
if you have nothing left to say

i am made of scars and skin
and i only fall for americans
i want to find out who they are
and what it`s like to live so far

when i``m on acid, all the trees
look like they`re looking back at me
i`m a coquette i really try
in hopes that i can catch your eye

there`s a tightening within my chest
when i think of all that i have left
a cicatrice is just a scar
i was born beneath a curséd star

i feel the bugs crawling over my skin
i guess the pills were a mistake
i cannot destroy the desire to be thin

i'm all sketched out on dexedrin
there's rituals with each new weight
i feel the bugs crawling over my skin

nobody knows where i have been
i just threw up my wedding cake
i cannot destroy the desire to be thin

i'll always be the fatter twin
you don't know what there is at stake
i cannot destroy the desire to be thin

admitting need is such a sin
instead of real, i go for fake
i feel the bugs crawling over my skin

i want to walk on glass and pins
there is no sleep i stay awake
i feel the bugs crawling over my skin
i cannot destroy the desire to be thin

i often don't want to get out of bed
i lay on my back and i wish i was dead
i am malnourished and unfed
there's something wrong inside my head
there's nothing i can do, instead
i focus on how much i've bled

you haven't lived until you've bled
twelve years of bloodstains on my bed
i tried to fight it, but instead
i'll do it till i end up dead
i kill the world and close my head
i have an ache that must be fed

the poison in me has been fed
with all the times that i have bled
it fucks up something in my head
i can't get up, i stay in bed
i doubt that i will end up dead
i'll live a hundred years instead

when i want to cut, i smoke instead
it leaves the cutting urge unfed
i often wish that i was dead
i should be, with how much i've bled
i don't want to get out of bed
sometimes i live inside my head

there's a secret world inside my head
i wish that i lived there instead
i'm safe when i am in my bed
the witch i live with has been fed
it's just so cruel, how i've been bled
by the witch who wants me dead

i'd be better off if i was dead
and it was quiet in my head
it wouldn't matter how i bled
if i chose the rope instead
but then the urge would go unfed
i'd rather end it all in bed

i bled and bled, but i'm not dead
i rose in bed with a clear head
i live instead, but i'm unfed

people call me all day long
"my laptop will not play a song"
"my wireless, it will connect
but i can't browse the internet"
"my laptop, it just will not run"
technicians don't have any fun

they cannot play their dvds
in "computer", there's no drive E
and once inside the registry
what i describe, they do not see
"the software folder? there is none?"
technicians don't have any fun

"i hate Vista, it's not worthwhile"
"why is Office just a trial?"
"you mean, i'm out of warranty?
why can't you troubleshoot for free"
i wish my fucking shift was done
technicians don't have any fun

there is something inside of me
that does not let itself be known.
it is buried deep.
even i can't find it
half the time.

this old need aches in me.
and it is this -
i need to be known.

where i came from i
was not allowed to say those words.
she pushed them down my throat
to watch me choke on
my own needs.

i was never allowed to want.
i was always supposed to be the quiet one
and out of place in everywhere
i was.

i do not know how to fight against this.
oh it has tried to let itself out
in a hundred different ways.
when i was younged i tried to
starve myself out of this world
but then they came with their
bitter pills
and i grew fat.

as i gained weight i gained a rage
that hummed in my veins and that
whispered for pain.
for ten years i listened to that
scream i kept company with.
i paid worship to those
masochistic gods with
anything i could steal.
you show me five, i'll raise you a thousand
and tell you how each one came to be.
it's amazing

how the skin mends, but it does
not forget. nor do i.
i wear my reminders on my arms.
i wear my reminders and strangers
never shut up about it when i'm walking
down the street.

i have pierced my ears until there
is no room for anything else.
i have hoops in my lips and
studs between my
eyebrows.
my hair is now blue.

and still i cannot admit to myself
that i need to be noticed.
such stark cries are anathema
to how i was brought up.
whenever i go out, wherever i end up,
people stare at me.
they yell to me from cars
and whisper behind my back.

but this is not what i need.
i need something deeper.
i need one person to always know where i am
and to need me back.
i cannot be who i am supposed to be
when i am with anyone but you.

the air is still. the
grass roots, they show white and break
beneath booted feet.

there is a witch, and she has strung
the people who she lives among
upon a wire that stretches through
a place you may have thought you knew.

she's in a state of well-renown.
she's feared by all who live in town.
they whisper underneath their breath
of who she'll bring next time to death.

if she finds you, she will greet
and show affection with her teeth.
you won't be missed. you won't be found - \
there's nothing left upon the ground.

she bakes the children into pies
and sprinkles the pies with children's lies
and no one's really quite sure why
they eat the pies of children's lies.

since she came, the sky is black.
there are no stars. the walls have cracks.
the moths have chewed up all the lace,
she has no plans to leave this place.

there is a witch, and she has strung
the people who she lives among
upon a wire that stretches through
a place you may have thought you knew.

There are some thing that can't be taught.
and some things that can't be forgot.
All you can do is move ahead
and think a different way instead.

i dig at my arms for a suitable vein.
when it all gets too much then i reach for the blade.
something in me is about to break
and i shall be found facedown in the lake.

these early hours have caught up to me.
it takes forever to fall asleep.
the threat of the man living under the stairs
is enough to make me pull out my hair.

i'd cut the tongue out of my head
if it meant that you'd shut up instead.
the hole, it grows. i ache and ache.
something in me is about to break.

i'll pile the rocks, i'll build the cairn
and wear long sleeves to hide my arms.
i do not sleep. i do not eat.
i think there's something wrong with me.

i do not smile. a chelsea grin
has been engraved upon my skin.
this isn't real. it's all fake
and i shall be found facedown in the lake.

nothing's changed. it's all the same.
i'm starting to forget your name.
something in me is about to break
and i shall be found facedown in the lake.

There's nothing for me in this town.
It's cold outside. The air is still.
I'll burn this place straight to the ground.

My heart lives in the lost and found.
I do love you. There's no ill will.
There's nothing for me in this town.

I'm not allowed to make a sound -
it takes a certain kind of skill.
I'll burn this place straight to the ground.

I wear a stolen evening gown
and curl up on the window-sill.
There's nothing for me in this town.

The patron saint of those who drown.
They choke me up with sleeping pills.
I'll burn this place straight to the ground.

They beat me up and stole my crown.
They moved in and they took the kill.
There's nothing for me in this town.
I'll burn this place straight to the ground.

I'm sick, but I am not a slut.
I am the tragic heroine.
I look for love in strange men's trucks.

In another life, I'd have been burnt as a witch,
my body, caressed by the billowing flames.
In this life, I'll be found dead in a ditch.

these scars prove that i am the suicide queen
it's not that i don't like it here, it's that i don't belong
i should have killed myself when i was nineteen

i never fit in with the popular scene
because i am weak, i am drawn to the strong
these scars prove that i am the suicide queen

i don't understand why my brother is mean
if this is a head game, then i was his pawn
i should have killed myself when i was nineteen

i'll starve myself so i can fit in your jeans
i tell you i'm sick but you never respond
these scars prove that i am the suicide queen

i am not your cecilia, and this is not your dream
i arose from the sea just to find you were gone
i should have killed myself when i was nineteen

my tongue's been cut out so now i can't scream
you never did care for the songs of the swan
these scars prove that i am the suicide queen
i should have killed myself when i was nineteen

The hardest thing was to let you go - 
watching your back as you walked out the door. 
Now you're just someone I used to know. 

Seeing you leave was the hardest blow. 
It wasn't the first time. I'd been left before. 
The hardest thing was to let you go. 

It all went downhill a year ago. 
I should have guessed what you had in store. 
Now you're just someone I used to know. 

We took things fast when they should have been slow. 
You gave me enough but I still wanted more. 
The hardest thing was to let you go. 

You were on top and I was below. 
I was your toy and I couldn't be more. 
Now you're just someone I used to know. 

Our relationship ended when I thought it would grow. 
You came back, you saw me . . . and chose to ignore. 
The hardest thing was to let you go.
Now you're just someone I used to know.