Disdain and [abbrivate] helpless
Powerless? The faster it goes
the story is told and I'm left there
spinning in my shoes, thinking of you.

To put it politely
or lightly, I hate you.
I hate you more than I could ever
begin to
want you to go away.
So stay, taunt me.

I can't stand anything about the way you are [not]
because it's one step further from you
and a mile into the fire
away from you.

I think of one thing,
one little pilot on a paper airplane
and it's burning, headed for a pit,
smoking, cripsing, predetermined
and he flies on, flies harder,
makes contact to base that all system's clear
even with the crack of the embers
on his back.

And it's me there, the plane, the pilot,
the pit the fire, the very air
he sets his life in, is me.
And you're everything else.
Everything I make you.

It hurts.
And I wouldn't change it for the world.

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