Our Friendless Days, and Desperate Nights

i didn't expect the misery
i thought it was my pragmatic
approach to living
but then the lies spewed
out of my mouth
now i'm stuck in this house
without a soul to talk to
or about
with you

old friends
long forgotten
tell me about
how when i write
it's an outcry
of my heart
to be loved

truthfully,
old and forgotten friend,
now turned foe,
most of the time i write,
yes because my heart is outpouring
this endless un-joy,
but also because
i never want to say it
the way i really need to
say it,
to your
beautiful face

and at the same time
that you're talking to me
like i'm the only one
with our friendless days,
and desperate nights
twirling in my brain,
you feel it too,
deep in your gut

you see,
i'm just in my bedroom
feeling the reality of
this unavoidable loneliness,
but you--
you are sitting in a bar
laughing with friends
knowing that once your
secret is out
they wont love you
like you think they do

it all ends
it all goes away

all the joy
all the smiles
all the drinks
in crowded bars
at one point or another
fade

it becomes sad
the jokes are stale
the drinks start to taste bad
and bars empty

we all
wake up one day
in an armchair
in the suburbs
or in some town
we never thought
we'd end up in

and
in a desperate
attempt to cling
to our old days
we tell jokes
we talk about the things we'd do
if only we had a few extra years
to live in that joyous time
that never existed in the first place

yes, you're right
i need therapy
and so do you
so fuck off