Operator false

I take a look at what you listen
to
- you don't hear the things I stare at
If this routine's accustomed prison,
Is death alone a true escape?
Again updating your account,
To check just what is added to playlist,
It's squalid, but there is no way out,
Whom'd help the use of therapist?

The heart won't beat the way it has to,
Whoever possible to meet is never a master.
Close operator never true for sweet submission,
Imagination leading to some drug addiction.

To save each other, to pretend,
We try to play the dark romantics.
I'd better fear it's gonna end,
But find myself in fear of the void endless.
The voice in head is out of reach —
My heart-shaped coffin it's been sealing.
It seems a fly asking a leech
To catch the spider on the ceiling.

Long outshadowed by many more striking and dramatic,
This silly (waste-of-time) wannabe game of romantic.
No more illusion that it could get better,
And one more drug was a breathtaking trick
Of pulse in hand on hand during the last theatre —
Romeo and Juliet's last date in the crypt.
Seizing, but only poisoned by thirst
On my dreampire outskirts.
I can't help laughing but can't convey how it hurts.
Like twins called Siamese and separation tease,
Keep it or cut — what's more traumatic?
Love never was a perfect match and rest,
But praising, begging for conquest!

You are so sure in words
We keep each other safe
From horror of the world,
Like shelter from the storm.
Yet I’m a living corpse —
And shelter's coffin close,
Invisible's the worm,
And what I really crave
Are gods who will ignore my grave.