what are you but a mess of words i strung together when i was inconsolably lonely
memories and fantasies pieced together as if they were one in the same
sound bites playing again and again in my head, changing slightly each time i need something more
i can make you say anything.
i can make you say "i'm sorry,"
i can make you say "i love you."
your lips mouth along to the dialogue i write for you
and with a pull of the strings your body moves the way i want it to
in my mind you take on whatever role the scene calls for
muse. god. lover. executioner.
each and every performance ends the same way—(onmyknees)—with an audience on their feet
the eternal part that i am cursed to play.