Brink

So, you say, "I know what you need"
and I say, "I think you're wrong,"
but you parade yourself in front of me
and the temptation grows faster than I remembered.
I say, "Maybe you're not as wrong as I'd like to think"
and you smile and wink and waltz closer to me
while singing, "It's time to let this go, let it out, let me in,"
and I have no more strength to fight you off.
You're a dazzling caricature of my sanity
with your sparking edge and your smooth skin
and I wonder if it's worth it to stay away at all
because I just need something to help me think.
"Well, I guess you're not wrong at all," says I
and you sneak up a little closer to me
because my eyes are tired and i am anxious
so I humor myself with your attention.
Afterall, I'm on the brink of distaster anyway
and what could make it better from here,
but a cozy floor with a cold metallic friend
and a bottle filled with different colored tablets?
But then that song plays and I fall back to what's real
because that always brings me back
and I look around to see nothing familiar,
but an old has-been habit who's overstayed his welcome.
So, pulling away with my last ounce of will
you're now powerless and weak in the shadow of my resolve
because this is not where I began and it's not how I'll end up
and I see myself now as I should have been all along.


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This probably only makes sense to me, but if it makes sense to you...sorry.