Hotel Books - Wooden Floorboards

I have these voices in my brain
I created them and I hate them
But I ask them to stay

'Cause I have this fixation on death
This fixation on change
This fixation on three years I grew out of pain
This fixation on sleep
This fixation on you and on me, but who could I be?
I spent three years writing poems about a fixation on the past
And she told me it was worth it
Because she told me you were last
But darling, I'll hold my tongue as I hold you tight
'Cause forgetting what you think love means is my sleeping pill every night
I remember when he woke up and screamed
Maybe our love is just laced with lsd 'cause darling, I'm high on life and you're just high on me
And as I tried my best to read between the lines or lip shake words I've tried to interpret as lies
Only to see the devil hiding deep inside the details
As lucifer found his way back into retail
And my dear he sold us a product we didn't wanna buy

But we weren't trying to be original
We were just trying to survive
The voices in my brain tell me it's all in my head
And I'll sleep with one eye open
But I won't sleep 'til I'm dead
'Cause a fair assessment of existence is an inconsistent realist vision of selfish antics reduced to survival of the fittest
Defined by our ability to avoid those carrying any sickness
And these whispers in my head intensify to raspy screams
Asking when my skull will explode so they can breathe
They know that no one has a voice when no one is listening
And the violent ride of staying silent or quiet is torturous to those who need to hear something

And that violence has its own sort of beauty
And you are my beauty
And you're my violent smile
And you are my violent prayer
And you're not my oxygen
But I breathe your air

'Cause these voices in my brain remind me of past mistakes
The beauty I found of being able to say: Look what I went through - I survived
But is survival living, or is survival just a place holder for a vacant mind to cut off the threat to coincide with the soil while their blood boils?

'Cause my biggest fear was never facing death or even facing what happens after
My biggest fear was never facing anything like that
My biggest fear was waking up in that coffin with these voices chanting
A of remorse, a force to bore from the course I had chosen

And now I'm laying here frozen
With fear
Staring up at a splintering slab of wood paid for with my life savings
Buried beneath the earth that grew the weeds that poison my family's feet

What if I woke up, walked back home, and it was like nothing had happened
We left your room the way you left it
We just scrubbed the blood stains out of the carpet
We just rubbed the mud remains out of your pockets
We just dubbed the tough claims of your sonnets

We just evacuated your room and hoped you would too
But your spirit haunted it too long
So we boarded it up, moved along, and watched it become a guest room
A place for the non-permanent inhabitants to exist within this home we created to raise our kid
That was my biggest fear
Finding out something like that would happen
'Cause the memories that have come with this only caused everything else to hurt deep inside of this dismissed feeling I feel

But sometimes you have to face the past
And maybe I've never faced death
But if I were to walk away, then what would I be?
These voices in my head, what would they say and what would they see?
Did I survive or am I cursed?
Did I die or die I learn?
What if I woke up like nothing happened?
What if I never wake up?
My dear, then what's my purpose?
What if I woke up like nothing happened?
And darling, darling, what if you woke up too?