the beekeeper.

six eight ten ii.

you're like al marsh but worse.

did you think i wouldn't notice?
sitting in the passengers seat,
did you think i wouldn't notice?
did you think i wouldn't hear your irregular breathing?
did you think i wouldn't smell it?
did you think i wouldn't see?
did you want me to see?

you're filthy.
so goddamn filthy.
you scare me
and you make me uncomfortable
but still mother insists on making me see you,
making me talk to you,
begging me to be friends with you.

i could never be your friend.
i used to be able to say i love you because you were family,
and i still feel bad for you and your situation,
but fucking hell,
i hate you.
i hate your arrogance.
i hate your superiority complex.
i hate your know-it-all attitude.
i hate your perverted jokes.
i hate your creepy remarks.
i hate your hypocrisy.
i hate your double standards.
i hate your lies to mom.
I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU.

you concern me,
but most of all you frighten me,
and one should never be timid around family,
but it's the only way i know how to act around you.

if i ever see,
or hear,
or smell
what happened today,
you bet your bottom dollar i'm jumping out of a moving car.

i can't take this anymore.
i'm too young,
too fucking young.