Maps.

I move slow, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.

You say "I hate you", you mean it and "I love you" sounds fake, it's taken me so long to figure that out. I used to love the taste I would do anything for it. Now I would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth. And you're so confident but I hear you crying in your sleeping bag.

But you were broken bad yourself, you were mad as hell you felt. If you had done anything with anyone else it would have worked out so well.

But you are an artist and your mind don’t work the way you want it to. One day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom and you’ll be thinking how did I get here, where the hell am I. If the rolls were reversed you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.