Hello...Operator?
I have a confession. My heart loves no more, the way a river may dry.
My heart now rests my soul.
A bed of memories.
A quilt of emotions stitching my scars to each other.
A patchwork mess of a life.
Hello...Operator?
I need a hot line for my hotwords.
I've got the hots for my life, yet I feel so cold.
A barren space desert with no heater and no atmosphere.
A frozen solid heart under the cold eyes and cold skies.
Hello...Operator?
I feel like taking my life...
To the hospital and fixing my problems.
I feel like taking her home.
I keep taking shots...never firing back.
Hello...Operator?
My call to a nation.
A call away.
Please call my name, once more.
A lonely caller in a telemarketing office, trying to sell to the bandwagon.
Hello...Operator?
She's dying.
The love ran free, like the blood flowed down the wrists of the innocent.
Like the hand of innocence, found guilty on the internet.
Like somehow any life could be considered insignificant.
An Insurgence of insensitivity in individual independence.
