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Closeness

I'm standing alone in the dark
and you come asking me what to do.
-What can I do to make it better?
But I tell you it won't get better...
Can't you see it won't get better anyway?

-How can I make it work?
It won't work. Don't you see?
You can't help it... Nothing can.
It is stronger than I am.

I can't stop it. You won't stop it.
'Cause it's never gonna' stop.
-Are you sure?
Well... I don't know.
At least I don't think so.

It's just... Sometimes I can't let go.
Something won't let it get well...
And I can't explain what it is,
but I can't help it.
Somehow I increase it.

Actually, I don't want to be like this.
I wish it'd get better, but I can't. I won't.
I need this feeling to enter my skin
by the tips of my fingers.

Let it build up inside my body,
In a growth that will consume my entire soul.
Until I haven't reached that place,
where the air is so heavy it's unfit for breathing,
I will never be able to open my self up againg.

Closeness is the idealized object that crave,
the one that feeds my anguish, and I
don't think it will be easier on me no more.
How can it be, after I've experienced
such a sore burden for so long?
How can I hope to feel good about this,
when all I can receive is this empty nothingness?

I've found and lost some part of me. A part that's
external to my body, in wich I rediscover myself.
It renewed me. I could, at last, apreciate all of mine intricacy.
But all of this was taken away from me.

It ripped my guts into pieces. There's nothing left of it.
Only this invisible hole within me.
That keeps slowly bleeding and bleeding...
Painfully tormented. With no one to mend it.
All I want is to put an end to it.