Im everything you aren't and the cool rush that washes over a sweating body
is just what I need, especially after a night with my thoughts.
Fuckitbabyiwanttoforgeteverythign.
living with a consience like THis. Not wanting to die, not caring to live.
Shaking inside, laughing, smirking, hugging dreams of death
this keyoard is like a curse upon my tainted thoughts, in writing, in pencil
is smeared ink, my veins
are your foiled knives, metaphorical speech, and im a sharped key to wrists
no rationality left, senses, detail, askingyouthefuckout
Songs of depression, my mind is racing a lightyear ahead of my reflexes, and pulse
slowing down, voices, whispers
Falling into stereotypes, and generic tears, when these are real
no point in writing. no point in breathing.