I ask myself, "What the fuck is the point of life itself?"
The wounds open to deaf ears asking "Why live in ties?"
When the coming years are only coming short of
Everything they used to be, and what they should have been
Note to self

Watch your step
You are standing still
Fuck "I's" and "why's" and "if's" and "I should have's" and
The poison tongue in my private cheek and the stomach in my smoker's throat

Separate the skin from teeth and bury everything between
It pains me to think
That if this is my most honest attempt at honesty
Then I'm honestly fucking dead

You won't find me in my room today growing affection for suffering
Or keeping secrets with the fucking ceiling
These conversations were never healthy