how many nights has it been 

since i last cried over you?

how many moons have come 

and gone

since I last thought about you?

when the sun stops rising

and when the waves stop crashing 

that's when

that's when I'll get you out of my head. properly, at least. 

getting you out 

and letting you out 

are two very different matters. 

getting implies that I want you to go

letting implies that I need you to go. 

but please 

either way 

getting or letting,

please

just leave. 

pack your bags and leave this little head of mine 

you're fucking up my brain. 

I need this brain

to carry me through

but it can't help me 

if you're ripping holes into it 

always, always drilling 

knocking

pulling

breaking

tearing

the walls of my little brain. 

I need you to get out of here 

sooner, rather that later 

you're hammering my brain

and turning on all my taps

and setting fire to my insides

and lacing yourself through my veins

and I want you out. 

although

if you're working so hard 

at shattering my brain

maybe 

you are trying to get out 

you're not here to damage me

instead of that 

you're hurt yourself, 

trapped in here 

for who knows how long?

captured

for how much longer?

when will this demolition end? 

five

ten

twenty 

years? months? hours? 

please 

hurry along with this demolition

so you can finally

finally 

exit my little brain 

and leave me to deal with the pieces you've left it in. 

it's not your fault you're in here, after all

it's only fair that you injure my head

for I've injured you, by keeping you here for so long. 

letting and getting are two very different matters

but when the stars stop shining,

that's when I'll really want you gone.