a lack of things to talk about



i called you today



i must have called you a hundred times



the sea of noise is a ringing in my



ear as my lips conceal secrets



things i could never tell, god



i can't die these little deaths



not again, as the moths eat



away the fabric of my stomach



this is just a bit to familiar



this beautiful lie,



this one fraudulent crime



and you won't answer anyway



cause i know if you ever die



i would have



a lack of things to talk about



or i'd just lie