Hurry Up And Die... Cuz There's a Party In Hell

The ability, or better yet the instinct,
To recognize failing versus falling.
Or better yet,
Knowing that upon your interaction failure is eminent.
So anticipating it's shattering beforehand: you grab strong, justifying:
Despite its delicacy, you'd rather crush it with all your might intentionally.
Than allow it to fall from your grasp and chance its accidental destruction.
But is this all about an easy way out again?
Was there something more to display?
Then you say that we need to talk, as if you've finally thought of something to say?
I know your standing in my corner.
What else is left to fucking say?
You're worried.
You worry about the damn'dest structures, but what could I say?

Open.
You're bleeding on your own.
Blacken that sun, in my head.
Where you've come from.

And I know you're standing in my corner.

A short sighted glare, between who we are now.
Come on, and you're sober now?
And you've been broken down all ways.

Are you into this yet?
Are you backed up to?
Are you now?

And I'll be there.
Be that kid, who always stares.
Waving you back home.
Your broken eyes save yourself.

I only wish I would've missed the last kiss we should've had against our lips.
Was it something I said?
Maybe something I did.

I know you're broken.
Because I'm broken too.
I know you feel me.
Because I can feel you.
And I know you're standing in my corner.
What else is left to fucking say?
You worry about the damn'destruct[ion]ures...
what could I say?

Grab strong, advancer.
As my heart, spirals deepest red.