J. Alfred Prufrock

Skeleton Key

I did a sick, sick thing to my love.
My lack of loyalty, it swallowed her up.
And she cooks me food.
She squirmed and turned like a skeleton key.

She left her man unattended to me.
Don't call me that.
Don't claim you love me
cause you know that ain't true.

And you're finally free
to twist and turn like a skeleton key.

You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.


I did a horrible thing to that girl.
I bread my misery and drowned it in her.
And she got me high,
And I hardly noticed there were tears in her eyes.

And I miss you less and less everyday.
This stream of whisky helps to wash you away.

And it's clear to see,
You're nothing special.
You're a skeleton key.

You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.

-Margot and the Nuclear So and So's


There is nothing like the time I decide someone needs my love. It tears at me. I have to take care of them. I am their only safety net. It is total nonsense.

There is someone. I have baked them cookies, critiqued their artwork, drawn them what they asked for on a whim. I would turn the conversation from them if it was negative towards them. I would do anything to make it easier for them... not that it is hard. The Person never notices. It is not in their nature... it is in mine to be cursed.

Sweet asshole sums it up. How can it be malicious if it is unwitting? How can someone be so blind?

How can I be so blind to do it all? Terri says: You will find someone, someday, who needs you and appreciates your giving. But I am spilling over now. And it hurts. Especially since it's anything but altruistic. I NEED to give. It's not to make you happy, it's to make me happy that you be happy... hopefully it doesn't make sense to you.

Terri says: Wait.

What about my life that is spilling over?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

And then the unforgiving knife that is twisted from behind into your lungs, when you catch your breath looking over you shoulder and see the outline, the long elegant fingers, the mindless mannerisms, the way their hair falls. It is too much to bear.


Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky...

WE is the cruelest word.


We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Would it be better, then, not to drown; to hold onto neverland? What is it that makes the unreal so tantalizing, that kills when we face true nature? Humanity is not loveable, perhaps.


Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,
it's not warm when she's away.

Wrapped up, I could never imagine the tearing perforation that would rip through were they to unexist.

Amo, ergo sum. Or is it the unbinding of our selves?